


the wind sings lullabies

by oddysseeus



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: (-ish), A LOT of Angst, Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Magical Realism, Mystery, NCTmentary, Pining, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Weird Stuff Happens™️, a strange city to say the least, all characters are main characters, all ships are both main and side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-10-20 18:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 116,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17627486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddysseeus/pseuds/oddysseeus
Summary: — a saying, proper to the dialect of neo city.lit.an explanation to soothe children when the weather seems frightening.fig.(1) look for the beauty in a world gone mad.(2) even the unheard can make their voices known.or, the tales of eighteen people inside a city that feels like home and a stranger.





	1. SICHENG

**Author's Note:**

> [ 180512 ]
> 
> disclaimer: i started writing this in may: the new nct/wayv members hadnt been revealed as rookies yet, jungwoo hadnt joined 127, and the ‘ten joining chinaline’ rumor didn’t even exist. this is an ot18 event.
> 
> enjoy.  
> unsure if you want to read? [preview.](https://neocityuniverse.carrd.co)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when it’s time for the moon to rise, sicheng stays by yuta’s side.

**i**. SICHENG

 

NEO CITY – _Got Your Back!_ Population: Infinite.

No matter how long he looked at it, Sicheng didn’t understand the words any better than before. The slogan was confusing, as in unrealistic – how does a city have your back? –, but what bothered him most was the population part of the giant billboard. He hadn’t been here the longest, but he knew how many people were in Neo, and it wasn’t what was advertised there.

Neo was confusing. For a foreigner like Sicheng, who had known many cities, this one felt like a bubble away from reality, a whole other dimension deep inside the Earth’s pocket. Sicheng didn’t remember those other cities, or as the locals would say, the Not-Neo. But he knew Neo wasn’t like any of them.

Sicheng didn’t remember much before Neo. He recalled having memories of a lost childhood, but he didn’t know where he left them, when they left him. When he crossed the city limits for the first time, entering Neo for good, they didn’t vanish; it was a process, his mind losing grasp onto the cherished past. Sicheng might not remember anymore, but sometimes, his jaw twitched, a jolt of knowledge digging its way back up. Very small and trivial things the city had judged irrelevant enough to let him keep. It made him miss a world he didn’t know.

All he knew was Neo, and frankly, he didn’t know much about it. He knew it touched every ocean, but wasn’t an island – he had arrived on foot, all those years ago, and he would never forget that horrible walk. It rained once a month, for a week. Words didn’t make sense, but sentences did. For some reason, the vegetables were blue, to be distinguished from the fruits, pink. The birds sang beautiful songs, but Sicheng had yet to see one. And even weirder, his best friend held the Moon in his backpack.

The wind was stronger today, making Sicheng turn on his heels to shield his face from the strong blows, and the smell of smoke it brought along. He could now see Yuta in his yellow raincoat climb the hill, breaking into a smile as he saw Sicheng. He tried to reciprocate the intensity of his best friend’s smile, but he could never face the challenge. His smile was small, always had been, weaker than the blinding light emitting from Yuta. Working alongside astral forces did wonders.

Sicheng sat down before Yuta could reach the top, taking out of his bag a couple snacks and a blanket. Every day, they met together on this hill, and together, they turned the day into night. Not so long after Sicheng had stepped foot in Neo, the Council had given Yuta a special status, one that would make him an important man in the city. As the Keeper of the Night, Yuta had to switch the Sun with the Moon, put back the stars and revert the sky’s fabric from blue to black. It wasn’t an easy job and took a lot of energy of out him, but he didn’t mind. However, Sicheng did mind, and when their friendship grew stronger, he took it upon himself to help Yuta any way he could. Thus the snacks and blankets.

“You’re here early,” Yuta commented, dropping his heavy bag next to Sicheng’s with a loud sigh. “That’s new.” The newcomer squeezed his shoulder before sitting down next to him, a smile on his face, his arm reaching for Sicheng’s snacks.

Yuta always tried to outsmart him by sneaking his food away, and Sicheng always smacked his nosy hand in reprimand. Snacks were for later, when Yuta would barely be able to stand, energy-deprived; this job was a tiring one, and Sicheng wasn’t feeling up to carrying the man home today. “You’re early too, dummy,” he retorted, pinching Yuta’s side, a wince leaving the older’s mouth. Sicheng was feeling playful, today. And with Yuta lying about his punctuality, the guy deserved what was coming to him.

“I’m never early. You’re the one who’s always late,” Yuta giggled, throwing an arm over his friend’s shoulders. Yuta always seemed to be in a good mood, no matter the occasion, giving to others part of his own happiness by existing next to them. Sicheng always found himself smiling when he was with him, outside worries evaporating when Yuta was close enough. It might not have been considered an ability like some of the others possessed, but Sicheng thought it was just as magical.

“A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to,” he retorted, a not-so-forgotten reference Sicheng loved to throw around when others accused him of taking his sweet time. They were less than twenty in this town; no matter was _that_ urgent. Plus, it made him seem way more articulate than he was, and that was a win, especially with the circumstances against him.

“If anything, I’m the wizard between the both of us,” Yuta bragged, prompting Sicheng to roll his eyes. The very concept of ‘wizard’ wouldn’t exist in Neo without Sicheng remembering one line from a book he had read in his teens – granted, Renjun _could_ have brought it up at some point too, but it hadn’t been the case – and yet Yuta claimed it to himself? Not on his watch.

“What does that make me?” Sicheng remarked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips at the prospect of his impending victory. He had more than one trick up his sleeve, that was for sure. “Your apprentice? That’s still wizard related. Which means my point stands.”

Yuta groaned, his turn to pinch Sicheng’s side. “Fuck, you’re so annoying,” he laughed, shaking his head – the comeback of a man fresh out of comebacks. The fond smile on his lips cancelled the impact of his words, but Sicheng wouldn’t let it go so easily.

“I can take back my snacks, you know,” Sicheng threatened, putting them away. He had to show he was a man of his word, although they both knew he wouldn’t hesitate to give them back to Yuta if he asked. He could never be angry, especially not at his greatest friend, the one who had helped him navigate this strange world when no one else would. It just wasn’t possible.

But he wouldn’t just tell him; what good would it make to lose his advantage? “You’re the least annoying man I’ve ever met, Dong Sicheng,” Yuta professed, dropping a loud wet kiss on his friend’s cheek, Sicheng whining. One thing to describe Yuta would be ‘grossly affectionate’ or, in other words, the very opposite of Sicheng. It was a wonder he kept putting up with him, and this sentence could apply to both of them.

At least Sicheng had gotten the last word. “That’s more like it,” he said, wiping his cheek with both his sleeves, scrunching his nose in fake disgust. Yuta was enamoured by the idea of kissing, anywhere and anyone, and it pained Sicheng, his main victim, to no end. “Don’t do that again, Nakamoto.”

Their personalities were so different, Sicheng genuinely wondered at times how they even tolerated each other. Where Yuta was extroverted and talkative, a bundle of (almost) unlimited energy, Sicheng stood at the other end of the spectrum, introverted, keeping to himself, better off alone. A balance of some sort must have been holding them together, for when they were with each other, they’d always meet in a healthy middle, their differences paving the way towards an unlikely friendship. Complementary pieces of each other, in a bizarre turn of events.

“How else am I supposed to show you my love?” He pouted, big puppy eyes blinking at Sicheng like a cat begging for attention – here again, something Sicheng would have never even considered doing. Yuta was naturally cute anyway; he didn’t need to stoop down to this level to make Sicheng do anything he’d ask. Except Sicheng was never saying that out loud either, or he’d never hear the end of it.

So he answered in the only rational way to do so: “Keep it.”

Yuta groaned, his desperation making Sicheng laugh. It was almost too easy, with him. “You’re annoying,” he declared, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Help me, now.”

He got up, Sicheng following suit. Yuta brought his bag closer, struggling with the weight of its content, and carefully zipped open the biggest pocket. He dug his arm deep inside and his eyes moved from Sicheng’s to his arms, instructing him to put his hands together. Sicheng did as told; he was used to this little routine by now, and knew exactly what he had to do before Yuta had to tell him, but he also knew his friend liked being in charge of this moment. So he let Yuta say all the instructions needed, even if he had heard them a thousand times already.

“Careful, they might be hot,” Yuta warned as usual, his clasped hands getting out of the bag. Sicheng reached out, the light between Yuta’s fingers as captivating as always. He dropped the stars in his open palms, brighter than ever, their warmth dripping down Sicheng’s fingers. He could never get tired of this, holding the universe. Other cities couldn’t give him that, only Neo. Always Neo.

With the stars out of his way, Yuta’s hands were free to take out the Moon from his bag. She was small, about the size of a soccer ball, but incredibly heavy, making Yuta’s arms tremble. This was why Sicheng had to hold the stars: Yuta needed both hands to hold her. Sicheng wondered how the locals did it, before they assigned Yuta on the job. He couldn’t imagine poor Jaemin trying to hold all that weight in his fragile hands.

Yuta raised his arms, the Moon balancing on his fingers, and with a little jump, he released her, going up, up, higher, until she shrunk in place, immovable. Then, one eye closed, he placed his fingers around the Sun, squeezing him until he popped out of place, falling in his hand. The Sun was tiny, a yellow golf ball, but he was hot, burning. For Sicheng, at least; Yuta had become immune over time. While the stars in Sicheng’s palms were starting to make him wince, Yuta could juggle with the hottest object in the known universe with no problem. He put the Sun back in its assigned fireproof jar, closing the lid tightly.

After the astral switch came the cloth’s turning. Facing the horizon, Yuta grabbed the blue skyline, and slowly, he raised his arms over his head and completed the rotation with his hands behind his back, revealing under it the night sky. He tucked the cloth behind the gray mountains, making sure no blue remained visible. Finally, the stars were ready to join the landscape. Sicheng handed them to Yuta, but the older didn’t take them back, like he did every day. He seemed deep in thought instead, his eyes travelling down Sicheng’s face.

“I want to show you something I learned,” Yuta said, taking back the stars. His gaze on Sicheng was intense, eyes piercing into his, as if searching for something inside his best friend. Yuta’s eyes reflected the light of the stars, their glow even prettier than usual. “Will you let me?”

Sicheng nodded, taking a deep breath. He didn’t know why or when the atmosphere had gotten so serious, almost intimate even, his stomach turning into knots as Yuta stepped forward, closer to him, close enough for his every thought to fly out the window.

“Close your eyes,” he inquired, and Sicheng did as instructed. He could feel Yuta going in circles around him, never quite touching him, his fingers brushing against Sicheng’s face once in a while – by accident, he supposed. The man stopped moving after a while, their synched breathing the only sound echoing in the valley of dunes. Not even the wind would break their melody. “Alright, you can open them.”

Sicheng opened his eyes, meeting Yuta’s tired ones. He wasn’t holding the stars anymore, yet they reflected in his irises brightly. Sicheng looked up, and there they were. Except they weren’t anchored to the sky; they moved along his own movements, gravitating around his head, a little cloud of lightning bugs following him around. He gasped at the sight of the universe dancing around his head, a fond smile growing on Yuta’s lips.

“Flower crowns are overrated,” Yuta chuckled, bringing his hand up to replace a fallen star on Sicheng’s cheek, a stardust freckle. “This is better.” Yuta let his hand linger for a while, his touch cold, smile warmer than a million Suns in the palm of his hands. “The stars are pretty, but you’re prettier.”

“I dream of you,” Sicheng blurted out, his mind racing with foreign thoughts invading every corner of his brain, every square inch of his being. Goosebumps on his skin, he couldn’t think properly, with Yuta’s fingertips on his skin, and so he started talking his head off, his mind leaving no intention of stopping him. “You’re here with me. You finished creating the night. We’re on this same hill, but it’s ten times higher, and you stumble on the edge. You’re falling. I try to catch you, but I can’t. I’m too far and I’m petrified at the same time. But then, there’s a man. I can’t see his face. He grabs your arm; it saves your life. He looks at me right in the eye as I’m unable to do anything.” _I can’t save you_. “I can’t save you.”

Yuta’s pretty eyes on him were taking in every word he spoke, concern growing on the older’s face. Sicheng didn’t want to make him worry; he just needed to say something. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut, after all. “Sometimes, dreams don’t mean anything, Sicheng,” Yuta shrugged, his hand resting on the other’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. An attempt at comfort which appeased none of Sicheng’s thoughts. “They’re just that. Dreams.”

“This feels like a dream,” Sicheng remarked, tilting his head, the stars following his every move. None of this felt real; a dream within a dream. “Does it mean nothing to you?”

Yuta’s eyes were full of the stars on Sicheng’s head. “You mean everything to me.”

There were signs. There had been signs Yuta was in love with him since the very beginning, since the first look, the first laugh brought out by a mediocre break-the-ice joke. Sicheng had chosen to ignore those signs as best he could, but in moments like these, there was no avoiding the truth. Not when it was staring at you so close and had given you the gift of a thousand stars on your shoulders. Yuta loved him, and Sicheng didn’t know how he felt about it, about him. Maybe he loved him back. Maybe he didn’t. He couldn’t tell, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

To ignore wasn’t the best predicament, but it would have to do. For Sicheng’s sake. “Let’s send those back home, Yuta,” he said, avoiding his gaze to look at the empty night sky.

Yuta’s smile faltered at his answer, guilt nesting in Sicheng’s stomach. “Okay,” he muttered, going around Sicheng again and taking back one by one the stars floating over him, gravitating around his being. Once he had gathered them all, he pushed them in the air, every atom going back to its rightful place in the vast eternity standing over them. Sicheng missed the stars’ proximity already, but he couldn’t go against the order of the universe. They had to leave; such was their purpose.

As Yuta sat down to lie on his blanket, Sicheng watched the night sky a bit longer. The stars were pretty, indeed, but he had always found the Moon to be prettier. None of the stars could compare to its pure glow, except maybe his friend. Yuta must have been made of stardust, to receive such a title. Sicheng sat down next to him, grabbing the most anticipated snacks and offering one to his friend who, to his surprise, declined.

“I’m not hungry,” He mumbled, his hands pushing away Sicheng’s. Yuta wasn’t looking at him anymore, his focus having shifted on the infinite dunes across the land, turning gray the further they looked. These dunes, boring and colourless, had somehow ended up as Yuta’s preferred spot to switch the days and nights. Yuta could be a peculiar person, just as he was acting out now.

Sicheng frowned. “You’re always hungry. And you love chocolate,” he waved around the candy bar, Yuta’s absolute favourite, but he failed to get a reaction out of him, the man only sighing at his gesture.

“Not today, Sicheng.”

Yuta was different. He had a special tone when he talked to Sicheng; it was gone now, the letters sharper, feelings he couldn’t understand leaking through his teeth, the sweetness of his voice turning sour. He was avoiding his gaze, when he would never take his eyes off him when they were together. Sicheng hated this Yuta, even more so knowing it was his fault. Part of him knew what was wrong, but that part wasn’t strong enough to let Sicheng as a whole know.

So, like a clueless idiot, he had to ask. “Yuta. Did I do something wrong?”

A half-smile tugged at the corner of Yuta’s lips, tilting his head ever so slightly. Sicheng had recognised this as his lying pattern long ago; whatever he was about to say next was bullshit. “No. You didn’t do anything. I’m just… in my head,” he covered up, Sicheng unimpressed. “Lay down with me?” Yuta then asked, patting the space next to him. Though Sicheng knew he wasn’t saying the truth, he laid down nonetheless, Yuta’s head finding its way to his shoulder. He didn’t usually like being touched without asking first, but with Yuta, it was different. A lot of things were different, with him. “I’m just overthinking, that’s all. I’m sorry,” he murmured into his ear, soft and genuine.

 _I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want_ , Sicheng wanted to reply, but that would mean admitting things he was not yet ready to face, admitting a truth Yuta had never even given him. Would he ever make up his mind, anyway? Did he want to know what he felt, deep down at his very core? What if the answer would settle him for heartbreak instead?

He let his mind wander away, the blurred traits of the man in his dreams appearing once in a while, anger bubbling up inside. Sicheng could see his smile, clear as day as he walked away, devilish of some sort, but also proud, too proud, _I-did-what-you-couldn’t_ kind of smile. A man he couldn’t tear his eyes off of as he walked into the unknown, and gone with him was the way to save his best friend. Whoever he was, Sicheng despised him.

He shook his thoughts away, wanting the dream to be forgotten in the confines of his own mind. “Do you remember?” Sicheng asked, Yuta linking their arms together. He must not have been angry at him anymore. A relief. “Before?” Sicheng clarified.

Yuta moved his head from Sicheng’s shoulder, staring at his profile, the latter’s eyes latched onto the stars. It was always safer not to look at Yuta. “Which time?” he whispered. “Before you, or before everything?”

His words made Sicheng’s head turn as well, no matter how much he didn’t want to face him. Yuta always had a way to make his heart jump and cheeks flush at the sound of his voice; it was unfair, really. “Everything,” he replied, glad for the dimmed lights hiding his body’s betrayal. Yuta was enough light anyway; no need for more.

“Not really,” he confessed. Sicheng should have expected such an answer, yet he couldn’t help but feel let down. Yuta had always understood him better than anyone; he figured he would know what Sicheng was talking about now again. But no one here remembered, the foreigners’ memories wiped almost clean. It was stupid to expect Yuta to be the exception. “I know my life from before was nothing like this, but I can’t really say. Why?” Yuta asked, the same old frown of concern taking place over his forehead.

“I don’t know. I guess I— I don’t know.” His worry felt stupid, now. He shouldn’t have brought it up in the first; he hated talking about his feelings. Somedays, he wished he could have been exempted of feeling. The very opposite of Yuta, whom he knew would try to make him spit out the truth anyway, by force if necessary. Sicheng was doomed by a beautiful curse. “Never mind.”

“No, tell me,” Yuta insisted, as predicted. He propped his head up with his elbow, looking down on Sicheng. “I want to know,” he added, voice softer. The special voice used only for Sicheng, airy and melodic and enticing and unreal, absolutely unreal.

And when Yuta spoke like that, just for him, he had to oblige. “I miss normal,” he let out, looking into Yuta’s eyes, hoping the man would read between the lines, further than his words.

Yuta nodded, giving him hope he had understood. “Normal is a bit boring, though,” he pointed out, a smile in his voice. Before Neo, Sicheng would have never thought a smile could be heard, but Yuta was proof miracles existed, in more ways than one. “You don’t get to hold the Moon, back in normal.”

Sicheng sighed, shifting his gaze to the stars. This wasn’t exactly how he had meant it. “Yeah, but back in normal, my mouth actually opens when I speak,” he said. No, he didn’t understand it one bit either. How the words he wanted to say escaped his body in waves hitting the walls of the city. How he had never said anything, only expressed thoughts with his brain very loudly, somehow. This was Neo, always full of surprises, some stranger than others; but it didn’t mean he had to be satisfied. “And don’t say stuff like ‘ _It gives you mystery!_ ’ because that’s not how it feels. You want to see the best in everything, the good in every situation. There is no ‘ _best_ ’ in this. It doesn’t feel good.”

Yuta frowned, fingers brushing off the hair falling over Sicheng’s eyes. “Then, how does it feel?” He asked, his eyes never leaving him.

 _It fucking sucks._ “Weird. Not in a good way. Unpleasant. Like I’m a speaker in the walls of City Hall. Or a robot made of flesh,” he spoke up, thinking back to all the normal things others could do that had become faint memories to Sicheng. “How can anyone even hear me? How does it even work? You get the Moon, and I get glued lips? How is that fair?”

It wasn’t the first time Sicheng complained about his situation. Yuta must have been tired of hearing the same things over and over again, but Sicheng couldn’t _not_ mention it. It lived with him; he was reminded of it every time he tried to speak, only to figure out his words were never really his, more of a traduction of his thoughts engendered by Neo. Was it too much to ask, for his own words to say? For his own voice to be heard?

Yuta didn’t speak for a while afterwards. Just when Sicheng started worrying again he had said something out of place, the man spoke up. “Are you jealous of me? I can’t do things for hours after putting it up. The time it takes eats away at my days. Rain week is a nightmare. We all have drawbacks,” Yuta reminded him. They weren’t angry, his words; they didn’t need to be for him to understand the pain they meant. Anger didn’t resolve things well, here in Neo. Yuta had understood earlier than most. “But the wind sings lullabies, Sicheng. Remember that,” he said, offering the younger a small smile.

Sicheng looked his way again. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just…” Sicheng took a deep breath, unsure of the way he should bring it up. “I don’t feel at home in this place,” he admitted, a small weight lifting off his chest as the words left his mouth. “I don’t know where home is anymore. I don’t know if this is it. Is this it?”

Somewhere along those lines, their fingers had intertwined. Had gone back to their rightful place. “It’s okay. I don’t either. We can try. We can make a home out of this, together. You and me, remember? The Sun holders,” Yuta recalled, tapping his fingers inside the other’s palm, rhythmic and relieving. Sicheng liked that in him, his hopefulness. One of the many beautiful things Yuta believed in. And one of them, lucky him, was Sicheng.

“How?” He asked. He had to ask. He needed an answer. Not from anyone, though; he needed Yuta’s. None other mattered, under this sky and these stars that belonged to no one but them both. Yuta’s Moon and Sicheng’s stars. _You and me_.

Yuta shrugged, and it was such a simple gesture, but worn by him, it held grace, meaning, more than Sicheng could hope for. “I don’t know. I don’t think anyone knows.” A laugh, melodic, enchanting, all those synonyms for ‘more than beautiful’. Ethereal. “But as long as we have each other, I believe we will be just fine.”

  


PART 1 } { CROSSWIND

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, neo is a confusing place. it has been intended that way. the characters themselves don't quite understand; it is normal you don't as well.
> 
> in-world building inspired by the nctmentary series introducing nct2018. the videos are on youtube and vlive if you want to get the ~feel~ of the story.
> 
> for an interactive experience of neo city (and perhaps some hidden clues of what's to come), click [here](https://neocityuniverse.carrd.co). (works better on desktop but you can still view on mobile!)
> 
> (and feedback is always appreciated!!)


	2. RENJUN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the land holds many secrets, but renjun knows them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beware: narration can be unreliable at times; the characters see themselves the way they think they are, while others perceive their exterior facade.
> 
> (and warning: some characters are ooc compared to reality for the purpose of this story. you'll see)

**ii**. RENJUN

 

To Renjun, nothing was more mesmerising than the great land of Neo City. The ocean wasn’t too cold or too warm, the ideal temperature for a swim. Huge snowflakes would sprinkle the ground few days at a time, and when they’d melt, the earth birthed the most beautiful flowers. The palm trees moved along the wind in perfect synchronicity, and the rivers coursing the forest changed their flow once a week. Nothing in existence could ever compare or even come close to the wonders of Neo.

He couldn’t try to compare, though. Renjun came from another land, far away, a land restricted by an area’s weather. That, he remembered, the rest, not so much. He knew snow wasn’t meant to walk hand-in-hand with these tropical giants, but when his first snowfall came, it was as if a force grander than himself had taken him by the shoulders and shouted ‘ _Rethink it all, Huang Renjun_ ’. Renjun used to be a good student, back when he had to go to school, in a faraway life. He had learned rethinking meant understanding thoroughly first, and following this logic, he then started his quest to know Neo’s landscape like the palm of his hand.

The first few months had been challenging, to say the least; he kept getting lost in estranged jungles, or the thick forest, or the sand dunes, and proceeding to panic, forgetting everything he had earlier mapped out in his brain in an instant. He thanked his good stars for Johnny, the city’s ever-seeing eye who could always figure out where he was and bring him back, but he also cursed the stars for Johnny, who put his expeditions to a halt after he complained about ‘ _having to many damn heart attacks_ ’ because of him.

Alas, Renjun was a teenager; therefore, he didn’t really care about this adult forbidding him of going outside, and did it anyway. Except, after a while, no one came to save him from the depths of the forest anymore, and he had to figure his shit out fast if he didn’t want to be stuck at night in a maybe-hostile environment (at the time, he hadn’t seen any animals yet, but it would be safer not to run into the possibility of a bear at night). But the fear of uncertainty didn’t stop him. If Johnny Seo couldn’t stop him, then Renjun was unstoppable.

“Are you sure we’re going, like, somewhere? Because these trees look all the same to me. No offense, I guess.”

Scratch that. His dumbass friends inviting themselves along on his excursions were definitely enough to make him drop everything and stop going outside forever. Seriously, why bother come, if all they did was complain? “Are you saying you don’t, like, trust me, Na Jaemin? I’ve been walking these paths for, like, forever now. I know my shit.”

“Just say you’re scared, we all know you’re the biggest wimp here,” Donghyuck added, siding with the chuckling Renjun. At least Donghyuck had more guts than Thing One and Thing Two walking behind them, probably flirting to get their nerves off. They were more pathetic than anything. “We won’t judge you too hard for it. We’ve done it enough to last a lifetime.”

“That’s fucked up, Hyuck,” Jaemin complained, his high-pitched whine echoing throughout the forest. Some days, Renjun daydreamed of sewing his friends’ mouths shut. It would become reality if they didn’t know when to stop. “The real wimp here is Jeno for sure. There’s more proof of it and that’s an unbiased fact.”

A very betrayed Jeno gasped behind them. “Who convinced you to fucking come, loser?” He cried out, mouth agape, punching his best friend’s shoulder while he joined the Whine Fest.

“Oh, please,” Jaemin retorted. “You’d be crying right now if I wasn’t here with you.”

“Only because I’d be missing you so much.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Donghyuck groaned, mirroring Renjun’s expression of disgust. One on one, they were bearable; put the two of them together, Renjun was in for a long ride he never asked for. At least someone else could see how gross they were being and validate his feelings, because had Renjun been alone with those two, they might have died of strangulation a long time ago. Renjun might have too much pent up anger inside him – blame the so-called ‘adults’ for that. “Why’d we invite them again?”

“Snacks for the forest monsters,” Renjun shrugged, words directed at the scared teens behind. “And let it be known I never invited anyone to come,” he added, turning back to Donghyuck. “You’re just clingy because Mark’s not available to give you attention, and these two are unable to be left alone more than two minutes. The rest is history,” Renjun called them out without a shame; they deserved it, for being so fucking annoying.

“There’s a fucking forest what now?” Jeno scream-whispered to Jaemin, bringing him closer, using his body as a shield. No doubt, he was the biggest scaredy-cat of them all, and very gullible, proving Jaemin’s point to perfection.

“I’m not clingy,” Donghyuck objected, kicking a rock on his path. Better resistance to fear than the other two didn’t make him any less of a big baby, mumbling his words in shame like a child who had been scolded by his mother. “I’m bored, that’s different.”

He raised an eyebrow at him, not falling for it. Donghyuck had been his friend for the longest out of all these idiots; Renjun had grown to know the little tricks he liked to pull on the elders, and they wouldn’t work on him. “Feels the same to me,” he commented, before stopping in his tracks, a noise catching his attention. “Hey, can you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Three voices answered at the same time, the pair behind having caught up with the two in front, still clinging onto each other like leeches. Gross.

“Well, shut up so we can hear it, maybe,” Renjun snapped, effectively making them stop talking. From the time he had spent alone in various environments trying to find his way back to City Hall, he had gotten pretty good at hearing things from a distance, a skill much needed when the Moon was up and he had to find a body of water before the sky turned everything pitch black. Water, he had learned, always brought him back to civilisation, in here. Very thoughtful landscape design. Today, Renjun had the pleasure of hearing the flow of a stream nearby.

“I can’t hear anything,” Donghyuck nagged, the two other boys nodding along with his statement.

“Damn, the forest monsters must have gotten to you already,” Renjun rolled his eyes, pointing another direction for the group to follow. “Let’s hope the river fairies are more friendly,” he made up again, walking towards the sounds of the river, his friends’ footsteps echoing behind him.

Soon they regained their initial positions, the inseparable ones at the back and Donghyuck walking along with him in the front. The boys had been quiet for a while now, trying to locate the sound they couldn’t hear as well as Renjun, when Donghyuck broke the silence. “And, uh, what’s a fairy again?”

Questions like these were hard. Hard to explain with words, and hard by the weight they carried. They could only begin to underline the secluded nature of Neo, something Renjun would never get accustomed to. Neo was very special, cut away from the rest of the world. It was strange to say, which is why Renjun never said it out loud. He preferred thinking this was just a different normal. Maybe then, he’d adapt.

Renjun didn’t remember much from before, like many other foreigners here, but traces of a past pop culture engraved in his memory would bubble up once in a while, like fantasy concepts that held no tangent on the real, which must have been why his brain had decided to keep them. And when questions like these arrived, as much as it made him seem like he had more knowledge, it never struck him as an advantage.

Explaining to Donghyuck what a dragon was when he had never even heard of dinosaurs or flying had been tricky, and it had raised concerns in Renjun. The fact that he could remember useless shit like mermaids and vampires was already strange as it was, but mixed with Neo’s complete lack of popular culture or references made the city a hollow shell (except for those weird sayings they had). Every city had its folklore, why not Neo?

It created a distance between the locals and those from Not-Neo; they might be speaking the same language, but it didn’t mean they understood each other. As if something was out of place. Not understanding Renjun’s references must have made Donghyuck feel dumb, even though he couldn’t know what he was talking about anyway. Renjun felt sorry for something that was neither of their fault.

There was one way around this, one which Renjun chose rather often when it came to Donghyuck: explaining with patience. “It’s— it’s like a little human, really small,” Renjun started, cupping his hands to illustrate his thoughts. “And it has wings, like a bird, but prettier.”

“Bird…wait, you told me before.” As Renjun grew to learn with great regret, there were no animals in Neo, only citizens. It was a miracle this place hadn’t fallen apart already, without biodiversity (he had his science teacher to thank for hammering the word into his brain, Renjun remembering the term even halfway across the universe, almost all memories afloat). “The thing that flies? Many colours. And what’s the word, oh! Feathers!”

There was beauty in Neo, it was undeniable, but it could never be the same, not to Renjun who had seen so much more in the universe next door. How magical could Neo be, really, to offer none of the beautiful creatures roaming the Earth to its citizens? It only made Renjun sad to know Donghyuck and his friends were born without ever coming across a cat, or even a squirrel. “Yeah, like that. Same concept, but it’s on a mini person. They help around and fly. Most of the time, they have powers too. Depends on the story, though.”

“Like Kun and Johnny and Jungwoo?” Donghyuck tilted his head, trying hard to assimilate the concept with associations he could relate to. He always tried his hardest to understand, even when all he was offered were faulty explanations full of missing pieces. Renjun liked that about him, this typically Donghyuck determination of his.

“Yeah, a bit,” he nodded. Renjun wouldn’t have used the word to describe them, but it the shoe fit, why not indulge him with a fantasy. “But different.”

“Nice,” Donghyuck smiled, Renjun thinking the question period to be over. He should have known better; not only did his younger friend like to thoroughly understand a topic before changing the subject, he could also be more curious than Renjun when he put his mind to it. “And where do you find them?”

Renjun sighed. He hated that part: the deception. “In your imagination. They don’t exist for real. Sorry, man.” It wasn’t easy, teaching his friend something he never knew and shattering the same fact as soon as he had his back turned. Donghyuck didn’t seem to mind much this time, and it relieved Renjun. The sirens had almost been a city-wide crisis, compared to this.

“But birds do,” he noted, still a bit confused, but getting there.

“You got it,” Renjun confirmed, throwing a thumbs up his way. Donghyuck frowned at the sight, unfamiliar with the gesture, but reproduced it with enthusiasm anyway.

“Sucks,” Donghyuck concluded eloquently, both thumbs in the air, contrasting with his defeated tone in an almost comical manner. “I wish I could be a fairy. Or see a bird,” he muttered.

Renjun couldn’t help but feel guilty when his friends asked about the Not-Neo. Sure, Neo was special, but as always, what was held out of reach always seemed more interesting, intriguing. Talking about the Not-Neo never ended in satisfaction from either side; one wished to see all that was forbidden, and the other longed for a past they could never go back to.

“You should go ask Ten,” Renjun suggested as they reached the stream, jumping down to its level. The city’s notorious artist was a great painter in his free time; he might be able to help Donghyuck picture animals for the first time. “Maybe he remembers what they look like, how to draw them. He could show you. It won’t be the same as the real thing, but…yeah,” he trailed off, his mind wandering.

“What about you?” Donghyuck said, putting his hands together in a prayer. Renjun doubted he knew the meaning behind the gesture, having copied it from Mark long ago, but at least he wasn’t using it incorrectly. “Can’t you draw them?” He requested, pouting. Also one of his little persuasion tricks Renjun knew too well.

He could probably fit the role. He used to take art classes in school, and he might not have been the best, but he wasn’t the worst either – and, if he were being honest, he loved drawing. Plus, he hadn’t lost this part of his memory stockage, and could probably put out something decent. No, the problem wasn’t the medium. The problem was a little more complicated than a pencil on paper. “I— It’s foggy. Out of reach. I’m sorry,” he lied, biting down his bottom lip.

“Oh. Okay,” Donghyuck nodded, unaware of the conflict inside Renjun. He kicked a rock, making a big splash in the water, tiny waves rippling from the unexpected movement. “I’ll go ask him. Thanks.”

Donghyuck and Renjun walked in silence next to each other, careful not to step on roots and lose balance, consequently falling into the water or head first onto a big rock. Renjun’s shoes were soaked already, but he didn’t mind the usual. As long as his clothes remained dry, the expedition would be a success.

“Hey, don’t you think it’s too silent?” Donghyuck raised, Renjun frowning in agreement. They hadn’t heard a flirtatious joke for a moment now; had they lost the duo to actual forest monsters, somehow?

The pair turned on their heels, and they could see from afar the scene unfolding. Jaemin was perched on top of a rock, trying to get down to the stream’s level, and Jeno, there already, was offering a hand out to help. Insisting would be the right word, Jeno putting his hands over Jaemin’s feet to stop him from making a move by himself, always the overprotective one. Reluctantly, Jaemin grabbed his hand, groaning and mumbling to himself, and Renjun could feel his eye roll from the distance.

An onlooker would see a friend helping out a friend, but to anyone in Neo, it held a different meaning. Everyone knew how fragile Jaemin was, and everyone knew Jaemin hated the fact. The illness, the weeks spent in the hospital lying on a cold bed with no real doctor and no knowledgeable cure, he had hated every second of it, and people treating him like he would break at any time was a cruel reminder of an event he desperately tried to forget. So people pretended he was okay. He technically was, and so everyone did, for his sake. But Jeno wasn’t just ‘everyone’ to Jaemin.

Renjun had never seen Jeno so wrecked before, so completely devastated. Jaemin’s illness had shaken the whole town – it was the first time anyone had ever gotten sick in all their time together, and no one knew how to deal with it – but Jeno had had the worst of it. Every day Jaemin remained stranded to his bed meant one more dagger straight into Jeno’s chest, or maybe the heart. Renjun had tried his best to help him out, but he could only watch in fear and hopelessness as two of his best friends fell together.

Jaemin was better now. How, no one could answer. A motherfucking miracle for sure. But he was better and consequently, so was Jeno. And while the town tried to forget, Jeno didn’t, and refused to.

“We should leave them be,” Renjun said, putting his hand over his friend’s shoulder. They had suffered for their friend too, but it could never come close to what these two had been through. “This isn’t meant for our eyes.”

Donghyuck nodded, and the two kept walking along the river, leaving the pair behind to their privacy. Renjun wasn’t quite sure where Jeno and Jaemin stood toward each other, but there was definitely something. Like electricity in the air before a thunderstorm: present, but waiting for the right moment to strike. And Renjun wasn’t getting in the crossfire trying to figure out when it would happen. It wasn’t his place to pry, and he had other, more pressing concerns.

“Do you smell that?” He stopped again, the cold water up to his ankles. The smell was familiar, rough and unpleasant, yet he was drawing a blank at the name. He had awful déjà vu, though, and this couldn’t mean well for anyone around.

Donghyuck frowned, then rolled his eyes. “Did you take us here to play a game of 5 senses? ‘ _Do you hear that_ ’, ‘ _Do you smell that_ ’, ugh, I’m not a toddler.” He halted his rant with a deep breath, and his eyes widened as the smell Renjun was talking about filled his nostrils. A coughing fit ensued, Renjun wanting to yell ‘karma’ in his friend’s face, but he was too preoccupied to try, attempting to figure out where the smell had came from.

He inhaled the scent, particles tightening his throat. _Oh, that’s what it is._ “Smoke.”

“Fire monster?” Donghyuck coughed out, half-joking, a frown decorating his face. Any other time, Renjun would have appreciated his attempt at lightening the mood and diffusing the tension growing in Renjun body, but he couldn’t laugh this time, his jaw so tense his teeth were begging for deliverance.

“Something like that,” he spat through gritted teeth, his hands balling into fists.

Neo was a peaceful place. Nature kept giving beautiful painting-like scenes, the citizens lived in almost complete harmony, everyone minding their own business without interfering with others, anything they could think of needing available their way. But, of course, some people wanted to be more special, the center of attention. And by some, Renjun meant one: the biggest prick on Earth and neighbouring planets, and his sworn enemy.

If Renjun loved creation, Jung ‘Fire Monster’ Jaehyun craved pure destruction. Instead of learning to control his anger, like a normal person would do, Jaehyun would take out his lighter and burn down the city’s building like they were made of paper. Not to worry, though, since Neo City was indestructible. How the buildings came back up after being turned to ashes remained a mystery, like many other things in Neo, but Renjun learned not to question it.

But where was the fun in burning down something that wouldn’t die? So Jaehyun changed his target. Before, Renjun didn’t mind him much. If the guy needed a way to let out his shit in rather questionable ways, that was fine with him. But burning down the trees? The forest? The beautiful landscapes Renjun had fought so hard to know and cherish? No fucking way; it meant war.

A gray cloud floated over to where Renjun and Donghyuck were standing, and it gave him all the information he needed to figure where Jaehyun’s pathetic arsonist ass was hiding. The battlefield called, Renjun answering, and so without warning, he bolted off towards the supposed source of the smoke.

“Hey, yo, you can’t run off and leave us here!” He heard Jeno’s voice behind him, the slower pair having caught up with Donghyuck, all three baffled by Renjun’s impromptu exit.

“Follow the river!” He yelled back, hands cupped around his mouth, hoping their ears wouldn’t fail them this time. Renjun didn’t have time to lead them to safety; they were grown people with functioning legs, and he had to save his home, first and foremost.

“Which way?” Jaemin added, their voices smaller with every step Renjun took forward. At least Jaehyun had had the decency to start his fire far from their position.

“Any!”

His wet shoes weren’t optimal for running, but Renjun couldn’t care less; he had to find the perpetrator and smack his motherfucking lighter out of his hands, maybe pin him to the muddy ground and spit vague threats to his face, or actual spit if it came to it. A very unrealistic scenario, considering he was built like a stick and Jaehyun could probably throw him around without breaking a sweat, but a boy could dream. Fantasize about punching his jaw so hard a tooth fell out. Just teenager things.

He had to come up with a real plan, though. Jaehyun was probably expecting him to show up; the element of surprise might be difficult. He could throw at him the cool rocks he kept in his coat, but then again, he didn’t want to lose them. He was at a loss. At least he knew the terrain. This might not be a lost battle already. Okay, he had a plan. It was risky, but also his only chance at winning. He couldn’t afford losing anymore. These trees were like family; he wouldn’t bear losing any more.

He could see a bright light through the trees as he inhaled too much smoke, his eyes watering as he tried not to cough and reveal his position. His throat tightened and his lungs were screaming for help, but he ignored his body’s demands and started climbing up the nearest tree, setting his plan in action.

Renjun liked to have the best possible view of his surroundings when approaching a new area of Neo; learning how to climb trees had become a very logical and useful skill for the nature lover. Even with blurred vision from eyes filled to the brim with water, he could navigate well from tree to tree, careful of his steps. The smoke seemed to thicken as he got closer, and once he could see fire, his lungs gave out the loudest cough in history.

“Renjunnie? Is that you?” A teasing voice from the ground asked, unsure of where to direct their question at. Really, a fucking pet name? Renjun could make out Jaehyun’s figure from where he was perched – ugh – and soon after the latter’s eyes met with his, widening in surprise. “Holy fuck, get down from there!”

Renjun opened his mouth to object but was thrown into yet another coughing fit, his lungs begging his to raise the white flags already. “Stop burning— my shit— you rat.” He kept advancing as he spoke, jumping onto the thickest branches he could find while Jaehyun kept following him from the ground, not having caught on yet with Renjun’s intentions.

“You know I’m not doing that, sweetie,” Jaehyun laughed, head thrown backwards as if the whole ordeal were hilarious. Renjun threw a stone at his head, hitting him right over the eyebrow. He was aiming for the nose, but this would do. Was it still funny, now? “Ow! What the fuck, Renjun?”

“Stop burning down my fucking trees,” Renjun demanded, firm as he moved along. He had regained control of his breathing now, finally able to yell all he wanted. “Burn the entirety of City Center for all I care, every single fucking day if you need to, but stop touching my trees.”

Jaehyun chuckled, the fury in Renjun growing along the unnecessary laughter. This wasn’t a fucking joke, but to him, everything was. “How about you come down so we can speak? Or are you hiding up ’cause you’re afraid I’ll kick your ass?”

“How about you climb up, fucking douche?” He was getting closer and closer to the burning trees, the heat growing on his cheeks, and finally, Jaehyun noticed. He frowned, his mouth closing and opening like a pedal bin, and Renjun would have laughed in his face had he not needed to cough again. He could taste blood in his throat now; maybe this hadn’t been such a great idea, after all.

“Hey, come down, I’m not joking,” Jaehyun warned, losing his cool guy facade, pretending to be concerned for Renjun’s safety. Yeah, as if he had ever cared once in his life about anything, ever. “You’re going to get burnt.”

 _No shit, Sherlock._ “Oh, yeah? And whose fault is that?” Renjun scoffed, positioning himself on a bigger branch. The heat was a lot stronger now; his idea didn’t seem as smart anymore, but it wasn’t like he could give up now, could he? He had an asshole to prove wrong; the thought alone was enough to spark back his faltering motivation.

Jaehyun sighed, running a hand through his hair as he watched the boy get closer to the flames. “I knew you were stupid, but I didn’t know you were fucking suicidal.”

Renjun snickered; that guy was dumb as a rock. No, actually, rocks had the common decency to serve a purpose: knocking out complete idiots who kept overstepping into Renjun’s territory. “This isn’t suicide, dipshit. I’m just going to burn my hand a little, maybe the leg. And then…” A little pause for the drama. “…I’ll go tell Doyoung. And he’ll get angry,” he warned, a smile on his lips.

“Get down, Renjun,” Jaehyun growled, visibly unhappy. And was that legitimate concern on his face? It couldn’t be; Jung Jaehyun didn’t care for anyone but his own damn self, and Doyoung on good days. Never Renjun. “My goal isn’t to hurt anyone. Doyoung knows that, and he won’t believe you. Keep him out of this,” he added.

 _Oh, dumb Jaehyun, you best believe I’m running right to him after this_. “What the fuck is your goal then?” Renjun asked instead.

Jaehyun shook his head, exasperated. _Good_. Fucking finally, Renjun had some sort of an upper hand over him: the sheer power of teenage annoyance. “I’ve told you before, but you never fucking listen. I’m burning this prison down until there’s nothing left but the exit.”

Renjun took a deep breath, his lungs filling with smoke, and for a split second, wondering if this were all worth it. For his forest, he would face death any day. “Then you’ll have to burn me too.”

He stepped on a branch from the burning tree, losing sight of Jaehyun. He steadied himself with the trunk and sat on the branch, preparing to get down closer to the fire. If he couldn’t stop Jaehyun, others would have to do it for him. And since no one cared about the arsonist’s antics because it ‘didn’t hurt anyone’, well, he’d have to prove them all wrong. Anything for his home.

He was about to move again when a pair of strong arms held him back, picking him up like he weighed nothing. He didn’t know when Jaehyun had learned to climb trees this high, this fast, but apparently, Renjun’s only advantage was now gone too. Jaehyun tightened his hold on the younger’s chest as he tried to bring them both away from the fire, but carrying a kid while playing Tarzan was never recommended. Renjun was not surprised when they hit the ground.

Jaehyun’s body had braced most of the impact, groaning and mumbling swear words as he let go of Renjun, intact. The boy got up and watched the tree he had been on seconds ago collapse to the ground, cascading flames engulfing its trunk. His heart broke a bit at the sight, but his anger was much, much stronger.

He turned back to see a struggling Jaehyun, but instead of offering his hand to help, he reached out next to him where the man’s lighter had fallen, a bright red against the brown leaves. He grabbed it between his shaking fingers and, with one last deadly look at his arch nemesis, he ran away from both him and the fire.

“I have plenty more!” Jaehyun yelled from his spot, coughing up smoke in between words. _That’s what you fucking get_. “You can’t stop me!”

“I’ll find them too!” Renjun spat back. “And fuck you!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trouble in paradise? more than you know
> 
> (comments, kudos & feedback are always appreciated!! thank u for reading!!)


	3. JOHNNY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it takes a village to raise a child, but one johnny seo to raise a city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> } { = time jump

**iii**. JOHNNY

 

Plain and simple, City Council was boring. A two-hour debate every week about ‘ _what should we do now?_ ’ was far from necessary, considering Taeyong always ended up making the final decision with ‘ _we’ll see next time_ ’. The Council used to be the tiniest bit productive, but along with Yuta making unreciprocated heart eyes at Sicheng, Mark barely ever present, Donghyuck sleeping at his seat, Taeil hiding in the tapestry, and Jaehyun toying with his lighter, there was only Doyoung who cared to help, if he wasn’t dismissed first by Taeyong’s tempestuous mood swings. And Johnny, well, Johnny watched over the eight in the room and the other seven outside.

Johnny had arrived in Neo a long time ago, longer than any of the foreigners. It had been an awful, crazy day; while he was losing his grasp on the reality he came from, he was attacked by countless stares and questions, questions he could not answer because he simply did not understand whatever they were saying. It took time to get used to their accent, and even more to ask if it was normal he could feel everyone’s presence anywhere in Neo. And to his surprise, they didn’t find the fact any out of the ordinary.

Some more foreigners joined Neo in the years following his arrival. He could sense them entering the city with a shiver, chilling to the bone, gripping to the core. He shook it off, never quite getting used to the sensation, and did his best to welcome them, easing the process of miscommunication between locals and foreigners. Unity was his legacy. It only made sense that when the Council was created, he had a rightful seat at the table.

The Council varied in age and origin: half of them were foreigners, and they ranged from adults to teenagers – the age gap was small already, but the biggest demographic they could cover, the better. To prevent another ‘ _incident_ ’ from happening, Neo had to stand united on all fronts. A good idea in theory, but in practice, a whole mess, proof of it being this very reunion he was dying to get out of. _We get it, Taeyong, you don’t agree with anything I ever say_.

His salvation came in the form of a shiver, like an ice cube sliding down his spine, freezing every nerve in his body. He excused himself after coming back to his senses, interrupting Jaehyun bickering with Taeyong, showing off who could be the angriest in the room. He ignored Donghyuck’s complaints about wanting to leave too and closed the door shut behind him, all their voices becoming muffled. Thank fuck.

Going outside, the wind hitting his face as he walked, he shoved away his boredom to focus on finding the mysterious newcomer who had answered his wishes. Whoever they were, Johnny liked them already. Not only for giving him a distraction, though; something was different about this particular person, but he couldn’t pinpoint why yet. He could feel it, the little blue dot in his mind floating closer and closer to City Center. Not like Jeno’s dark blue. A pale blue, soothing, waves crashing onto the shore, the cloudless sky on a bright summer day baby blue.

Johnny was too busy admiring the foreigner’s colours he didn’t notice him getting in the frame, dot becoming person, becoming a boy who stood across Johnny, on the other side of Neo’s very own waterless fountain. What should have been a proper meeting had now become a magnetic staring contest, neither of them taking a step forward, yet even with all this distance, Johnny had never felt closer to anyone. The enchanting pull of this individual, itching at him to get closer, was getting harder to ignore.

He wanted to speak, say something, introduce himself. This was how it went, usually, with a small presentation on his behalf in the hopes they would reply back, and eventually integrate their small community. It was harder when they were young, stranger-danger and all, but this man wasn’t a lost boy, far from it. From afar he could tell the man was smirking, as if he knew something Johnny didn’t. The man wasn’t afraid, confused, angry, crying like some others before; therefore, the next steps should be easy. Then why did Johnny feel like he had to be careful with his words?

Johnny gulped, putting on his brightest smile. He only had one chance at a first impression; he had to use it carefully. “I’m Johnny,” he said, for a lack of better introduction. This was simple, but it was okay. He almost certainly couldn’t fuck up by saying his own name, right? This was safe. “Johnny Seo.”

The man tilted his head, his eyes never leaving Johnny. “I’m Ten,” he replied, observing his every move, as if aware of the beating in Johnny’s chest growing more and more the longer they held each other’s gaze. His accent was melodic, signing a song instead of words Johnny might not have been able to register right away. Songs reaching further than language, making them understand each other in an instant despite the strange barriers of Neo. A voice melted in all things sweet.

Ten. How lovely. “You look older,” Johnny deadpanned, proud of his little joke. Granted, it had been an easy one, but if he ever wanted to become genuinely funny one day, he had to grab every opportunity to crack a joke as it passed by.

Ten shook his head, biting down his lip to prevent a smile from coming out. It didn’t seem to work, for his laugh graced Johnny’s ears. If only he could be closer, hear his happiness-induced voice with greater clarity than the day’s sky above them. “Have you considered a career path in comedy? First time I’ve heard this one,” Ten bowed to Johnny, hands behind his back. “Hats off to you, my good sir.”

So the guy was witty. Johnny cracked a smile at his mockery – as long as he got to hear his voice, he’d consider it a victory. “Your name is Ten,” he stated, raising an eyebrow. “No last name? Just Ten?”

“Just Ten,” he nodded. “No need for any superfluous addition.”

He liked the sound of it. Ten. Nothing more, nothing less, a perfect balance, a good fit. “Well then, Just Ten. Welcome to Neo City,” he greeted, his turn to bow. As he stood back straight, he wondered if he should have said some more; it was unusual these first meetings went well, and he was already out of ideas. So he spoke some more. “I’m Johnny.”

Ten chuckled, and fuck, did he want to hear it straight into his ears, drunk on the sound of his laugh. “I know. Are you afraid I’ll forget?” He teased, taking one small step forward, nearing the edge of the fountain. Johnny mirrored his action, hoping the blush on his cheeks from his eloquent misstep wasn’t too clear from a distance.

“No,” he shrugged it off, a sudden rush of confidence taking over him. “I just hope you remember.”

They stood still, watching each other, wondering who would take the next step, who would close the dangerously tangible gap between them. Maybe Johnny was in over his head, maybe he was the only one feeling this pressure on his chest as he squinted his eyes to make out the other’s traits better. Maybe the other man was only playing a game he knew by heart, and Johnny had happened to be his next target.

Or maybe the foreigner did feel the same way; a small sigh of relief left Johnny’s lips when Ten walked over to the edge of the fountain, climbing inside, and kept walking all the way across the empty basin. He got out smoothly, with the grace of a dancer, and as he looked deep inside Johnny’s eyes, bubbles exploded in the latter’s veins.

This guy wasn’t just anyone. This one was special. Johnny had known before he had even laid eyes on him, and he knew the same when they were standing in silence, the world rotating around their connection. The heart of Neo, the art of Neo, it was all Ten, always had been, always would be. And finally, he had arrived home.

Ten held out his arm. “Alright then, Johnny Seo. How about you show me around?” He asked with a sly smile designed to make anyone fall at his feet. Johnny had fell right into his trap, and as he linked their arms together, he wouldn’t regret jumping in a thousand times.

  
  


} {

  
  


Every month, the first night following the end of rain week, Johnny waited for Ten to fall asleep, a hand playing in his hair, the other tapping rhythmically on his thigh. Ten was even more beautiful as he was asleep, a feat Johnny had previously thought impossible, for he was left breathless by the sight of him laughing and breathing and blinking. He had to resign himself with the fact that Ten couldn’t be anything less than perfect, at any time.

Usually, they’d fall asleep together, but on those particular nights, Johnny had to find the strength to tear his hand away from him and leave the comfort of his warmth. The passage of time hadn’t helped; it seemed harder every time to leave him, even after doing so countless times before. He wouldn’t be gone long, he told himself, but his reasoning didn’t work in the slightest. He had to get used to the fact he was a whipped fool, or else it would only get worse.

Without looking back – because if he did one more time, he wouldn’t ever leave – he left their little nest and breathed in the fresh air of the night, looking up to the stars. Some nights, Yuta liked to leave secret messages written in constellations, but tonight there were no puzzles for Johnny to solve. He could see some clouds coming in from the North, and wondered if the kids would be happy about the incoming snow day.

City Hall was almost always empty this time of the night. Taeyong sometimes decided to stay in late and bother everyone with his loud music over the speakers, but since the night was silent, it was safe to say the conference room would be free of use. Johnny couldn’t risk anyone overhearing, or getting the wrong idea.

Jisung was already seated when he got inside. Johnny couldn’t properly tell, but it seemed the boy had grown since the last time they had their meet-up. His blonde hair was falling in front of his eyes and he looked deep in though, turning around with the desk chair. A young boy, it would seem to an untrained eye. Some days, Johnny wondered if he were older than the universe.

“You always take so long,” Jisung complained as a greeting, his feet hitting the ground to stop the chair’s motion. Jisung was always so proper and patient with him, attentive of his ideas and noting down his suggestions; something must have happened for him to react like this. It wasn’t Johnny’s place to pry, but he wouldn’t mind knowing what was wrong either. Perhaps he could help out.

He sat down opposite Jisung, at the other end of the ridiculously large table, ready for their private meeting to begin. “Are you in a hurry? Do you have something else to attend to?” He asked out of curiosity, seeing the boy was restless in his chair as if he couldn’t wait to go back home already.

“No…” He trailed off, looking anywhere but Johnny. Jisung might have had an old soul, but he also adorned the manners of a child. It could be disturbing at times.

“Do you have to go to sleep?” Johnny ventured. He really didn’t know how to act around teenagers, which was the primary reason of Jisung’s involvement in these secret meetings, but also an obstacle. Like right now, trying to figure out the boy’s mood without being too intrusive or demanding. If Johnny handled this the wrong way, Jisung might drop out of their agreement, and without a connexion to younger citizens, it might become harder to maintain balance and unity.

“No,” Jisung shook his head, rolling his eyes at the elder. “I don’t sleep. I’ve told you this before.”

This situation was getting trickier to handle by the minute. Johnny was all out of ideas. His last option: being straightforward. “Then what’s the problem, Jisung?”

The younger boy sighed, finally looking straight at him. “The problem is that if you don’t take me seriously, no one will,” he let out, fiddling with his fingers over the desk. “Please show up on time. That’s all I’m asking. I have to lie to my friends every day and it’s already a lot. Just…please.”

 _Oh_. All this time, Johnny hadn’t even considered the very real option that Jisung was mad at him, out of all people. More proof he was completely disconnected from the younger generation and their feelings. He should definitely get to work on that. “I’m sorry, Jisung. I’ll be more considerate,” he apologised, putting as much sincerity in his voice as he could. “Mind if we get to it then? Tell me, how are they?”

Jisung hummed, taking some time to think, but he quickly gathered his thoughts, ready for his report. “Donghyuck doesn’t have much to do so he hangs out with anyone he can find. Mark is working, obviously, but I think he’s getting a bit tired. You might want to talk with him. Jaemin’s health is stable; Jeno would have said something if it wasn’t. He has a tight watch on him, but whatever floats their boat. Chenle…he’s good, I guess.”

Johnny didn’t have time to graze over the string of random words Jisung had just attached together (whatever float what now?); something of possible importance needed to be addressed first. “You _guess_? Isn’t Chenle your best friend? What makes you unsure?” He asked, concern growing on his face. They couldn’t afford uncertainty. That was Neo’s one and only flaw, one that if ignored could backfire over them all. They had witnessed it enough already.

“Nothing!” He yelped, waving his hand in dismissal. A nervous laugh escaped his mouth, but he composed himself back. Odd. “Nothing, really. He’s good. He’s happy. Nothing happened with him in particular, that’s all. Everything’s fine,” Jisung assured, grinning.

This behaviour was unfamiliar; Jisung never raised his voice. There were red flags waved under Johnny’s nose, but he trusted Jisung, in his complicated way of expressing himself. Whatever was happening, he didn’t want Johnny on it, and he would deal with it on his own. As long as it weren’t threatening Neo’s security, Jisung could hide anything he wanted from him. “Alright, okay. If you say so.”

Jisung nodded, getting back to his original train of thought. “Oh, also, Renjun and Jaehyun are feuding better than ever. They might be involving Doyoung, I’ve heard.” He shrugged, silently asking for Johnny to refrain from asking more about it. No one understood the nature of those two’s constant fights, and it was likely Jisung didn’t as well. If Doyoung didn’t, none of them would. “Have you figured out your Renjun problem?” Jisung continued, stepping into a matter of further importance than two idiots fighting over trees.

“The radio silence?” Johnny asked for clarification, Jisung nodding. “No. I still haven’t. I can guess where he is when he’s with friends, but other than that, blank.” It had happened so suddenly, too. One second he was there, a little burgundy dot jumping around from the edge of town to the other, and the next, poof! Off grid. Except Renjun hadn’t disappeared, and things would only get messier from here. “It’s driving me nuts.”

Jisung grimaced. “I’d say you’ll figure it out, but I have no clue how your thing works so I won’t even try.” He was an honest kid. Sometimes pretty brutal about it, never afraid of lowering anyone’s self esteem, but Johnny liked that about him. No hard feelings. “At least he’s still here, you know. Could be a lot worse.”

“Thanks, I guess,” he acknowledged Jisung’s efforts. He had to figure this out as soon as possible; it had already done enough damage to the town, and one more error on his behalf could cause suspicion. “What about Yukhei? Still good?”

“Jungwoo’s keeping him in check, as far as I know. We don’t have to worry,” Jisung reassured the older. They definitely had to watch out for that boy; not only was he Neo’s latest arrival, but the personal goal he had revealed to Jungwoo could become a threat to the peace they were fighting so desperately for. _Can’t have anyone disrupting the peace_ , his mind repeated to him like a mantra. “Anything on your side I should know about?” The younger added, handing Johnny the spotlight.

Jisung didn’t need to be made aware of Neo’s problems as much as Johnny did, but if he didn’t deliver on his part of the deal, he’d lose his trust. Johnny wasn’t sure why Jisung even wanted to know about the elders’ antics, but hey, at least he wasn’t asking for more. “Yeah, nothing in particular,” Johnny answered in all honesty. “Jaehyun causing trouble is all I can think of, but that’s nothing out of the ordinary. I have no clue what Taeil is doing at all times, which is also somewhat normal. The rest are in their own bubble, it seems. Oh, and I believe Kun is having a little meet-up next week or something. Might be interesting.”

Jisung nodded, lost in his own thoughts. “Cool. I’ll ask Chenle how it went. Yeah.”

Wow, it bugged him not to know what was going on between the two. Johnny frowned. “Are you sure he’s good, though? Are you two okay?” He asked one last time. Jisung had never appeared to be shy, but now, with his head looking down to his feet, Johnny didn’t need high education to figure out something was going on. Something he might not feel confident telling an adult? “You can tell me, you know. I’m not here to judge.”

“We _are_ here to judge, Johnny. And everything’s fine, anyway,” Jisung insisted, getting up from his chair. “Like, super fine. So fine that I have nothing to add and will be going now, if we’re over.”

That kid was odd, but it might just be how teenagers were, though. He hadn’t experienced this period of his life in Neo, unlike most of them. Maybe that was why he felt so disconnected from them. Yeah, it was probably cultural, rather than a lack of social cues on his behalf. “Okay, sure. If everything’s fine, let’s just get going.”

“Yeah. Uh, night, Johnny,” Jisung waved as he stepped out of the room, an awkward grin in guise of a smile. He could appear so young at times, it scared Johnny to see the juxtaposition from up close.

“Good night, Jisung,” he replied, getting up as well while the kid left for good. He was grateful for that little one, even though Jisung wouldn’t hesitate to murder him on the spot if he heard him say he was little. Ah, teenagers.

He stayed alone in the room for a while, looking around the wooden furniture here and there, but got bored and left. The clouds had gotten closer, the air colder. The days were a little happier when it snowed, which was something they all needed. It was rare the whole town gathered together unanimously, but on snow days, they were quite the occurrence. After all, the snowmen weren’t going to make themselves, right?

The city was quiet. In a town of eighteen people, it was quiet most of the time, but at night, the atmosphere changed into a silence running stronger than the day could bring. Night meant rest, a time to take a deep breath and relax, and it felt like it when walking down the streets alone. Night was a self-reflecting time, for the comfort of some or discomfort to others. Silence could become oppressive, for someone whose quest was to make sure seventeen other people were well. On nights like these, he had a lot to think about. He preferred daytime.

As he got inside his home, he almost jumped at the sight of Ten, on his way to the door, a coat thrown on and keys dangling in his hand. The man let out a deep breath and ran into Johnny arms, holding him tight. Johnny returned the embrace, although slightly confused, frowning.

“Is everything all right, love?” Johnny asked, patting the shorter man’s hair. Ten didn’t bulge, his arms wrapped around Johnny’s body, not letting go. Not that Johnny was complaining.

“Where did you go like that?” He muttered against his chest, words coming out muffled as always, but his question clear as day. A pang of guilt hit Johnny’s stomach, or maybe it was Ten’s angry fist bumping him in reprimand.

“I had to take a walk. I needed air,” he said. It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t a truth either, but it wasn’t a lie. He couldn’t lie to Ten; he had once tried, only to find out it was physically impossible. Which made his night time disappearances much harder to keep hidden. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. No. I’m okay,” Ten confirmed, looking up. Johnny’s frown softened at the sight. “I freaked out a little. I’m not used to waking up and you not being there,” he explained, his voice small. He loosened his grip on Johnny’s waist, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. He then scoffed, shaking his head. “Fuck, I feel dumb now.”

Meeting Ten and getting to know him had turned out to be two very different things. At first, he had been the epitome of confidence, acting all cocky with Johnny and using it to his advantage. Johnny was mesmerised by his being, as if he had been blessed by the presence of an out-worldly entity. But Ten turned out to be human, with his flaws and self-doubt and days when playing flirty felt like a burden. Johnny liked him even more, knowing they were comfortable enough around each other to be nothing but two humans in desperate search of something greater. They could help each other achieve that, and Johnny found it beautiful to think about.

Johnny cupped his cheeks, forcing the shorter man to look at him. “Hey, don’t say that. You’re not dumb, Ten,” Johnny stressed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He let his lips linger on the spot for a while, then looked back at him. “Why’d you wake up at this hour? I thought you were sound asleep. Did you have a nightmare?” It wasn’t like him to have a disrupted sleep; the whole city could be burning down, and Ten would keep on snoring that cute way of his. If something had happened while he was gone, Johnny would never forgive himself for being so careless.

“No,” he muttered. “I guess I missed you. Or maybe I have my own Johnny radar that tells me when you’re too far from me, and wakes me up.” He was smiling now, no worries in sight, and so Johnny let himself relax as well. He was cute when he joked like that, Johnny thought. He was cute all the time, with his sleepy eyes and dishevelled hair and pillow marks on his cheek.

“Well, I’m here now, and I’m not leaving. Let’s go back to sleep,” Johnny suggested, tearing his gaze away, leading them both back into the bedroom. He helped Ten get out of the jacket, which was actually Johnny’s and way too big for him, but Ten didn’t seem ready to daze off again. Johnny recognised that look; he wanted to say what was on his mind, and Johnny would never stop him from doing so.

“You could wake me up, you know,” Ten offered, his hand resting over Johnny’s arm. “When you need to go outside. I could come with you, if you want. I wouldn’t mind waking up for you,” he continued, and _fuck_ , how did he land on a guy so perfect and thoughtful and considerate and beautiful from the inside out? “Unless this is to get away from me, which I would understand, but if it’s not, like, I’d be happy to go,” Ten laughed. Johnny smiled. “We don’t spend enough time with each other.”

Ten was right. Johnny kept his days busy going around town, checking up on everybody, which gave them little time to enjoy together afterwards. Now that Ten was bringing it up, Johnny missed him, too. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll try to do something special for us. Would that be nice?” He suggested, his mind already gearing up for ideas.

“I’d like that, yeah,” Ten smiled. Fuck, he was so beautiful. It was a wonder Johnny hadn’t suggested earlier, if the end result was this happy man looking up at him like he was his whole world. “That would be very nice.”

Maybe Ten was his whole world, too. “Okay. Perfect.”

“Hey,” Ten called, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s neck. He was restless now, clinging onto him as much he could, as though they had been separated for days. “I love you, Johnny Seo.”

Ten said those five words waking up in the morning, his eyes barely open. He said them later when they left the house, his mouth tasting of blueberry pancakes or sugary cereal. He said them when he walked by him and got the chance to sneak under his arm and steal a kiss. He said them when the sun disappeared from the sky as they watched the world change colours on the rooftop. And each time, Johnny felt those words in his bones, his heart threatening to rip his chest open. Each time, whether it was the first, the thousandth or the millionth, each time he fell more and more in love.

“Just Ten, I love you too.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> arent they just the cutest... shame if something were to happen i guess
> 
> thank u for reading!!


	4. YUKHEI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> people believe in neo; yukhei believes in what comes after it.

**iv**. YUKHEI

 

With every passing day Yukhei wondered when he would get to wake up from this drug-induced nightmare he couldn’t escape. This must have been some sort of dream; this place was so detached from reality, he couldn’t even remember what reality was supposed to look like. It had to be a dream; why else would he have no memory of how he got here? There was a tavern, and then there wasn’t. He was walking, walking, running, walking again, and then…he was here. In Neo fucking City and its fanatics of a people.

He didn’t belong here. He never did and never would. No matter how much Jungwoo tried to implant it into his brain, he was growing immune to his charm. This place wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Where was his place? Nowhere. Yukhei didn’t have a home, and this fever dream wouldn’t take its nonexistent place.

He needed to wake up, or find his way out of whatever this place was. He repeated it like a mantra every morning, locked inside the bathroom and away from the outside world. _You’re on the run. You can’t stay here for long. You can’t stay here, period. Jungwoo will try to make you stay, but you have to go back. Don’t forget where you come from. Don’t you dare forget it._

And he looked for an exit. Whenever he had free time away from others set out to make him believe this place was nicer than it was, he ran as far as he could, sometimes for hours, until his legs would give out. But he never reached anything. He had even dared to step foot in the Gray Area circling the town, keeping the colours in. Yukhei thought he couldn’t be contained. It looked like this place transcended possibility.

There had to be a way out. If there was a way in, however blurred it was, there had to be an exit. He had to believe, or else he would go insane in here.

The city had its charms, sure. The colours were vibrant, flowers in constant bloom. The night sky was incredible. They could do whatever they wanted at any time – no authorities, no societal expectations as he knew them. The people were nice. They were super fucking weird and had been brainwashed into thinking this was a life worth living, but they were nice.

Yes, brainwashed. There was no way they couldn’t see all the whack shit going on right under their noses. Fucking rain week? No one gets to decide when it rains. Buildings coming back up after being burned to the ground? No alternate universe could offer that. Having one person do the chores of eighteen people, for free? Human rights violation, literally. Everyone thinking it was okay? The harshest truth of them all.

Yukhei tried his best not to fall victim to that. He hadn’t been able to escape the massive memory wipe, but for all that remained, he hung onto it as best he could. _You’re on the run. You don’t belong here. And there has to be an exit._

But before he could leave, he had to socialise. If he wanted to be left alone, he needed to pretend he was integrating society without any complaints, which meant spending time with other people than Jungwoo. The latter had suggested he join a club – yes, a fucking _club_ – and as it turned out, Neo did have some kind of club. Which was actually a cult with the most ridiculous name ever: the Kunbelievers.

Although the name was cringe worthy, the people were nice. Chenle was fun to be around, a ball of sunshine with a laugh that could cure illnesses. Yukhei liked him the most; he was the only one laughing at his poorly delivered jokes, most of the time. Then, you had Renjun, that smart-ass kid who wouldn’t hesitate to roast any of them to a crisp, with a strange glint in his eyes, full of curiosity, a sight that confused him when he stared for too long. There was Sicheng too, nice and kind mixed with a bit of mischief, but Yukhei didn’t talk with him as much. Call him an asshole all you want, but his mouth never opening when he spoke freaked Yukhei the fuck out, so he refrained from starting conversations with him. And, finally, the man of the hour: Qian Kun.

Yukhei didn’t understand him. Not necessarily _him_ ; he was a caring guy, smiling all the time, eloquent with his thoughts. He had a way with words that could make anyone understand what he meant without having to explain, a quality that Yukhei was very envious of. He was an easily understandable guy. What Yukhei was having a harder time wrapping his head around was his – _ugh_ , he couldn’t believe he was saying that – powers. Because this place just wouldn’t stop going the extra mile to gain the title of weirdest city ever.

Kun predicted stuff, or he made stuff happen. It was hard to know which one it was. If Kun said there would be thunder tomorrow, you best believe a thunderstorm was coming. Did he have an ability to predict future events? Or was the thunder never even happening until he said it would? A real mindfuck, that was his superpower. ‘ _I’m good at lucky guesses_ ,’ Kun had said to him the first time they met. It was magic, but sure, he was ‘ _lucky_ ’.

He was smart, too. He knew an ability like this could attract others into befriending him without seeing him first as a person. Rather than being afraid people liked him because of the one thing he had no control over, he took advantage of it, pushing it to the front of his persona until Kun and the power could only exist within one another. His power was his humanity, and Kun became the magic.

Their little group formed before Yukhei’s arrival in Neo, Chenle and Renjun choosing the name. Kun was in charge of leading their little day trips, with Sicheng assisting and the two youngest being overly supportive of their ideas. Yukhei’s role was tagging along, and it was already exhausting.

Today, they had decided to meet by the waterless fountain in the middle of Neo before going to the mall together. Not the greatest adventure, but ‘ _these are meant to have fun with friends, not discover the secrets of the universe,_ ’ Kun had explained. Yukhei was sitting on the edge, watching Renjun and Chenle pick up rocks around City Center to throw at each other – yep, this was how boring Neo was. Kun had been there first, but had left soon after Yukhei arrived, saying he had forgotten something at home to bring him. A tasteless song chosen by Taeyong ran through the speakers of the public place, some weird sounding EDM giving him the urge to fucking scream.

Turning the corner of a building were Sicheng and Yuta bickering about something Yukhei couldn’t hear, arm in arm, rolling their eyes at each other but smiling nonetheless. Renjun and Chenle dropped their rocks and ran up to Yukhei, joining him without discretion, giggling like children on Christmas morning.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Chenle asked – more like shrieked –, sitting on Yukhei’s right. Renjun sat to his left, making Yukhei unable to ignore their loud ass conversation about something very private. Fingers crossed that the two lovebirds walking up to them had terrible hearing.

“I hope Yuta’s scolding him for not stepping up his game,” Renjun replied, almost louder than Chenle’s megaphonic voice. Before arriving in Neo, he had never thought people could speak to that level of decibels. _This isn’t a competition, guys._ “I don’t know how he does it, dealing with a clueless fool all day. I’d have dropped him long ago.”

“But it’s love, Renjun! Love! Of course he won’t drop him,” the wide-eyed Chenle pouted, bringing his hands to his chest as if astonished by his friend’s words. The boy had a flair for the dramatic. “But it’s not like you wouldn’t know anything about that, now, would you,” he mumbled, quieter than earlier, but when Renjun’s eyes widened, Yukhei could tell he had heard each word perfectly fine.

“And you do?” the older of the two retorted with a smirk on his lips, raising an eyebrow at his friend. Yukhei could feel the incoming burn; no one outwitted Renjun, and Chenle had fell right into the lion’s den. “You’re like twelve, what do you know about love? Huh?”

Okay, maybe Yukhei had put his expectations too high on that one. Third grader insults weren’t exactly what would have made his blood boil, but when Chenle frowned, opening his mouth back up again to defend himself, Yukhei knew he had to intervene. “Hey, guys, how about you chill for three seconds?” he suggested, slowly but surely developing a headache. They were really fucking loud, and their mouths right next to his ears weren’t helping. “You’re both ten anyway.”

Yukhei would have been crushed under their incoming insults, had Yuta not jumped over to them with the brightest smile in the galaxy, making the two kids forget their brawl in an instant. These brats, listening to Yuta when he hadn’t even said a word, standing there radiating happiness. Yukhei wished he had the same aura of respect as the older did. Maybe these little activities wouldn’t be as painful, then.

“I told him I didn’t need to be dropped off, but he wouldn’t listen, like always,” Sicheng complained, the words bouncing off the city’s wall in that peculiar way of his, bringing a smirk out of Yukhei. At last he wasn’t alone anymore to deal with the kids’ incessant whisper-screams, and this was the best gift anyone could have ever given him, ever. “I don’t know what I expected.”

“Please, Sicheng, I didn’t do this for you. I couldn’t care less about your wellbeing,” Yuta scoffed, hand dismissively waving at Sicheng. They had a weird sense of humour, these two together. “I came here because I wanted to see how my two favourite children were doing, of course! Don’t make this about you.”

“We’re not that young,” Renjun remarked with a frown, prompting a laugh out of Sicheng. Alas, Renjun was quick to take offense in the smallest details on some days, and today happened to be one of them. “Got something to said, old man?”

Sicheng snickered, unable to keep his thoughts hidden around the younger boys giving him hell all day long. “What am I, Taeil? You’re like nine, but sure,” he chuckled, earning an elbow in the ribs courtesy of Yuta and deadly glares from the younger duo.

“Don’t be mean,” Yuta reprimanded, furrowing his eyebrows at him. He might have been pretending to be serious, but the playful spark that appeared whenever he looked at Sicheng wouldn’t leave his eyes. “Taeil’s not even here to defend himself. I’ve raised you better than this, Dong Sicheng.”

“Ugh, Mom!” Sicheng whined, playing along and pouting at the older, crossing his arms over his chest the way a small child would after being caught doing something bad. Wow, even Yukhei wouldn’t embarrass himself like that in public for Jungwoo. Boy was whipped.

Yuta turned back to the youngest of the group, looking down to them. “Now, you two, be nice. Kun is working hard on these, so don’t forget to thank him. Yukhei, it was nice to see you. And you,” he added, pointing his finger on Sicheng’s chest, “don’t forget to buy me something nice, or I’m not making dinner tonight.”

Sicheng rolled his eyes at Yuta’s demands, but he wasn’t fooling anyone; the smile he tried to bite down could tell way more than words did. “Sure, Mom.”

Yuta gave him a parting hug, Sicheng more reluctant to return the embrace, followed by the loudest kiss on the cheek Yukhei had ever heard. The man flashed his friends one last smile before walking away, waving to the younger ones. Sicheng remained frozen in place, a growing smile spreading to his cheeks as he watched Yuta disappear, blush creeping up as well. Yukhei didn’t know much about love, but he could recognise a dumbstruck smile when he saw one.

“Are you kidding me, Sicheng?” Renjun exclaimed as soon as Yuta was out of earshot, ever the president of the YuCheng fan club. He got up, placing a hand over Sicheng’s forehead as if he were taking his temperature. “Are you blind? Are you heartless? Do you even have eyes? Or ears?”

Sicheng let out a nervous laugh followed by a shrug. _Dangerous territory alert_ , Yukhei thought as his friend’s body language stiffened. “What? Why?”

Chenle got up at well, joining his friend to Sicheng’s side. “Well, have you seen Yuta?” he asked, secretary of said fan club. He placed two fingers over the side of the older’s neck, checking for a pulse. Brats indeed. “Were you not there when he, uh, _kissed_ you?”

Sicheng was growing uncomfortable by the minute, and for a fraction of second, his eyes met Yukhei’s, a silent plea for deliverance. “Well, yeah, why?” Sicheng wasn’t dumb like they made him out to be; he knew exactly what they were asking, and he knew his own answer as well. It was easier to play dumb than get into feelings. Yukhei knew about that too.

“You can’t be serious, oh my—”

“Guys, drop it,” Yukhei finally intervened, pulling the boys away from their victim. They’d end up getting hurt one day if they kept putting their noses in other people’s business; this was a preventive matter, in a way. Sicheng nodded at him, a subtle ‘ _thank you_ ’ for his eyes only. “Kun’s coming.”

Indeed he was, jogging to catch up with the group, smiling when he saw everyone had arrived and were ready to set off. Chenle waved at him like the little enthusiasm bubble he was, and Kun grew into a smile. Yukhei noticed he was coming back empty-handed, when he had earlier told him he needed to take something from home. Did he lie so he could get away from being alone with Yukhei? They weren’t particularly close, but the idea he would have done something like that didn’t sit well with him. Maybe Yukhei was being paranoid. Kun was a nice guy, nicer than all of Neo. _Not everyone is set out to destroy you, Yukhei._

“I couldn’t find it. I had a book I thought you’d like, but for the life of me I don’t know where I put it,” Kun explained, putting a hand over his shoulder in apology. Yukhei wasn’t an avid reader, but he wasn’t going to break his spirit and decline the offer. There was no book anyway. “Are you all good to go?”

The walk to the mall wasn’t very long; the City Center was small enough for everything to be within walking reach. Renjun and Chenle set out to bother Kun now, asking about tomorrow’s weather and other ridiculous stuff to predict, earning a couple of sighs from their elder, but always followed by an answer. Poor guy didn’t know how to say no. Yukhei could tell he wanted to change the subject, trying to ask about their day and such, but the kids couldn’t be bothered to notice.

“Thanks again,” Sicheng muttered, coming up next to him, Yukhei a little startled. The boy was quiet by nature, and Yukhei hadn’t heard him come up from behind, thus the small jump in his throat. Also, the weird mouth thing giving him goosebumps, his brain having trouble processing the source of the sound, words bouncing off walls in a strange echo he couldn’t miss.

It was weird to say the least, but Neo was far weirder. “It’s nothing. I know they can be a pain in the ass,” he empathised, countless stories of the same nature coming to mind. These kids could be demons when they wanted to.

“The more they are, the worse it gets,” Sicheng remarked, letting out a light chuckle. At this point, he was trying to maintain the conversation alive; Yukhei could feel it. The two boys weren’t close at all, but after helping him out, maybe Sicheng was starting to see an ally in him. And Yukhei wouldn’t mind a friend.

“Yeah. True,” he agreed, trying as well. His mind came up blank with an action to follow through, and so silence took place between them, walking together as they watched Kun’s smile get progressively fake as he dealt with the younger ones. He must have been regretting this trip already. Speaking of regret. “If I may ask, and you don’t have to answer, but…why don’t you like—”

“Talking about him?” Sicheng sighed, kicking some rocks down the road, hands burrowed deep in his jacket. Yukhei nodded, his mind already giving up on getting an answer when the guy spoke up again. “I’m not ready. I don’t, know? Not now.”

They were more similar than he thought, Sicheng and him. Both were dealing with complicated heart problems, in the figurative sense. Both clueless about what to do. Both thinking it could break the other, being true to one’s self. Except Sicheng’s story could only end in smiles, and Yukhei’s in uncomfortable tension he’d much rather avoid. “Do you think you’ll ever know?” He asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Hopefully,” Sicheng replied. His mind seemed to have wandered far away as he said those words, deep in thought. His future held something else to look forward to. Yukhei didn’t have that. “But at the same time, I’m not sure I want to.”

Everyone in Neo knew Sicheng loved Yuta, before even knowing it himself. It was a fact, ranking the same as ‘blood is red’, ‘fire burns’, or ‘hair grows’. ‘Sicheng and Yuta’. Yukhei didn’t understand why Sicheng would refrain himself from having what could be his most fulfilling relationship. Yukhei would love to have that, the certainty Jungwoo loved him, and that he too loved Jungwoo. He would love waking up with these two simple facts. But ‘Jungwoo and Yukhei’ were more of a myth. A creation, barged into the heads of disciples having to follow along. A story weaved from a lie.

Sicheng must have had his reasons, though. He must have, for torturing himself that way, keeping Yuta close through it all. He must have, or else he’d only be doing harm to the both of them. “I’m sure he’ll understand,” Yukhei said, genuinely believing it to be true.

“Yeah.” Back to silence, walking, awkward bumping of shoulders and pretending Kun wasn’t about to combust. He was getting red in anger, now. They might have to intervene before one of the kids got kicked off into outer space; Kun would probably be able to do that, if the right buttons were pushed, and right now, these kids were playing all over the dashboard. “How are you and Jungwoo?”

And that was his cue. “I’ll get back to you on that, okay? Kun is going to kill them if we don’t do something.”

Thankfully, they had reached the mall before anyone could show signs of murderous intentions. Yukhei decided he was buying Kun a medal for keeping his cool against all expectations. The man was too good. There was no way Kun had ran away from him, earlier. Yukhei felt dumb for even accusing him of such a thing, when he was the only one keeping the five of them together. He deserved more than a medal. A fucking trophy.

“Okay, we’re here,” Kun stated, clasping his hands together like the unofficial leader he was. And he took his role very seriously. “I guess we can go wherever, as usual. Be wild, but not too wild. Have fun. Don’t break stuff. And if you see Mark, don’t bother him over nothing. He has enough on his plate.”

His speech was different than usual. “Wasn’t the goal of this whole thing being all together?” Yukhei frowned. The look Kun threw his way reflected tiredness beyond what words could reach, and his eyes darting at the two younger ones furiously chatting made Yukhei’s mind connect the dots: _You will face my wrath if you don’t let me take a break_.

“Well then, I guess I’ll be off to the jewellery store,” Sicheng stated, walking backwards towards the store he had in mind. “If I don’t come back with something expensive Yuta will never do anything nice for me ever again, so I better go.”

“I’m coming with you,” Renjun announced, following him excitedly. “I’m going to see if they can make some diamond swords up in there. I will be channelling my inner knight and stab Jaehyun in the dick for the good of the greater world.”

“Are you sure Mark’s qualified to make you a sword?” Chenle asked, trailing behind. “And knights…that’s like, medieval, right?”

Renjun nodded. “Yeah, my mom read me too many books about them when I was younger,” he recalled, listing off a couple from the top of his head. Yukhei recognised none of them; he must have left these memories on the other side. Not forgotten, just left behind.

“You remember your mom?” was the last thing Yukhei heard before they were out of reach, their words muffled by distance.

With their departure, he was left alone with Kun, the older letting out an immense sigh of relief. Who knew Kun’s tolerance had a limit. Well, it wasn’t like he knew much about Kun to begin with; aside from the obvious and his public persona, Kun wasn’t someone he could call a friend, not yet. Maybe later, after engaging with him more. What was it, today of all days, that made him want to socialise with the people around him? First Sicheng, now Kun… Yukhei must have felt lonelier than he thought.

“I love them, but they’re exhausting,” Kun declared, a hand over his chest. Truth be told, they hadn’t been particularly devilish compared to some other instances, but Kun must have been feeling more sensitive today. Everyone had their bad days, even sweethearts like Kun. “You can go with them if you want—”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Yukhei declined. If Kun wasn’t feeling well, Yukhei didn’t want him to stay by himself, especially considering he had put them together in the first place. If he needed a friend, Yukhei would be here, and although he might have lacked some of the qualifications, he could always try. “I’d be a jerk to leave you alone.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind, really.”

Maybe this was a polite hint to leave him alone, but if it were, Yukhei chose to ignore it. “I’m sure. Lead the way.”

As it turned out, Kun didn’t have anything in mind either, the two of them wandering for a couple minutes doing window-shopping instead of getting anything. It didn’t take long for Yukhei to notice Kun had a habit of thinking out loud, the man talking to himself every time he gazed upon something interesting, commenting on the object in sight. Yukhei thought it would get annoying when he first heard him mutter something about a pocket mirror, but it turned out to be pretty endearing.

They ended up entering a smaller shop selling useless goodies. The place was cluttered and disorganised, teacups next to gardening gloves next to decks of cards. It was evident no one came here, which explained why Mark wouldn’t bother cleaning it up. An entire row of the store consisted of objects the younger kids should never be allowed to see, such as electrifying pens, whoopee cushions, or silly string. Neo would not survive a prank war, and Kun knew as much; he grabbed the curtain hiding the back store entrance, and carefully, he covered the dreaded shelves, making sure none of those objects could see the light of day.

“Smart move,” Yukhei praised, chuckling. He earned a toothy grin from Kun and went back to browsing the various items, until a spark caught his eye. Extracting the object from the pile it was stuck under, Yukhei retrieved a plastic gold medal and almost gasped. Coming in here must have been some weird ass joke on fate.

“What are you buying?” Kun asked, noticing Yukhei’s clear interest in an object he couldn’t see, tiptoeing to get a better look. Yukhei raised the medal over his head, the light making the plastic shine.

For a children’s toy, it didn’t look half bad. The red ribbon added some authenticity, a nice touch. The specks of glitter were a bit too much, but this would have to do. In gifts, it was all about the intention rather than aesthetics, anyway. “Do you like it?”

“A medal? For yourself?” Kun scoffed, eyebrows raised in stupor. He shook his head, a scoff coming out of his mouth.

Okay, Yukhei could see how that looked bad. “No, for you, for putting up with our shit,” he detailed, trying to salvage his cool image. “I’m not that self-centered, Kun.”

“Please,” he snickered, waving a hand in dismissal. Yukhei should have probably felt offended by that, but he could let it pass for now. Kun seemed to notice Yukhei’s expression wasn’t changing, the medal still hung up over his head for him to see, and his expression morphed into confusion. “Wait, really?”

Yukhei nodded, the corner of his lips raising up. “Yeah, of course. It’s not like you don’t deserve it,” he justified, nothing but the truth. He was in the group’s own name, for fuck’s sake, of course he deserved to be acknowledged.

“Alright, then, I’m buying you something too,” Kun insisted. Of course, his selfless nature would forbid him from accepting a gift without giving out one as well. “What do you want? Can be anything,” he continued, his smile widening. Yukhei didn’t need anything, really. This would only be a waste of money, and money didn’t even exist here. “Come on, play the game! What is it you want the most in life?”

To that question, Yukhei didn’t have to think twice. “To leave Neo.”

But as soon as the words left his mouth, they felt wrong. Yukhei, the foreigner in a land he didn’t want to belong in, felt like his words were the foreign ones, the ones who shouldn’t have seen the light of day. It was out of place, to say he wanted to leave while enjoying an afternoon with someone he might be able to call a friend, but it was the painful truth, and it belonged here more than Yukhei did.

And fuck Neo, for making him want to stay when it clashed with everything he was.

“Oh,” Kun said, his smile dropping. The mood had become sombre now, the air tense between them both, all thanks to Yukhei’s exceptional social skills. _Thanks a lot, Yukhei, this is exactly what I needed._

“Yeah. Can’t buy that, price or not,” Yukhei pointed out, not helping. It was Kun that had asked anyway; the fault wasn’t his to bear for the awkwardness ringing in their ears in a deafening silence. Kun had asked, and shouldn’t he have predicted his answer somehow? However his thing worked.

Oh. His _thing_. A bulb lit up over Yukhei’s head. “But you can give it to me. Only you can,” he requested, hinting at the fact for him to understand on his own.

Kun raised an eyebrow, trying to decipher the meaning, and when he did, a nervous chuckle escaped his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest, and before he could get a word in, Yukhei already knew his answer. “No. I’m not doing that.”

Yukhei sighed. “You said you’d give me anything,” he reminded, his asshole tendencies coming in useful. He didn’t want to hurt Kun, but when it came to this particular subject, he had to think about himself first and foremost. His sanity depended on it. “At least give me something. I need to know I’m not doing all this for nothing.” _Please, Kun. I’d give anything to know._

Kun was looking anywhere but at Yukhei, looking up to the poorly designed ceiling and closing his eyes shut. “Yukhei,” he gulped, finally looking at him. He wore a determination Yukhei had never seen in him before. “I don’t want to say anything regarding that. I don’t know the consequences it might create.”

Bullshit. “Why not?” Yukhei asked, disregarding his last statement. It couldn’t be the real reason why; Kun didn’t care about the consequences of his ability, as shown by answering every single question the younger ones of the group asked. So why was Kun so unwilling to disclose of this one? How could the answer to his question bring any consequence regarding anything? It wasn’t like he was asking about someone else. This was his life. He had a right to know.

“Because I’d be sad to see you leave?” Kun shrugged, like it was the most evident thing in the world. Except if your name was Wong Yukhei, apparently, because he wasn’t expecting an answer this wholesome. There was a glimmer of sadness in the older’s eyes, barely noticeable, but Yukhei’s eyes never missed anything. An old wound in Kun’s eyes, a reflection of déjà-vu better kept under wraps. Sentences once mustered repeated again. “Because you’re my friend?”

Getting a hammer to the head would have hurt less than this. “Really?”

“Yes, really. You didn’t think so?” Kun tilted his head, frowning. Oh, fuck. Did Yukhei fuck up again, accidentally revealing what he thought of the other? He liked Kun, he hadn’t meant to say it like that. He hadn’t even said anything! Kun shouldn’t have been assuming things! Of course they were friends. Yukhei was just dumb and horrendous at labeling relationships. Fuck, he didn’t want to let him down, of all people. Stupid idiot. “It’ll be raining.”

 _What?_ “What?” Yukhei blurted, snapping out of his spiralling thoughts. What were they talking about again? The fact that Yukhei was the worst friend in the world?

“The day you leave. When it’ll be your turn, it should start raining. If I’m guessing correctly,” he said, looking down at his shoes, drawing patterns on the dusty floor. _Oh_. “And you won’t be as alone as you think you are.”

The beginning of rain week, some time in the future. Accompanied. Oh.

His mind went right to Jungwoo. He wished it could be him, or a version of him who loved him. But this wasn’t the case, far from reality. Jungwoo didn’t love him back. And that left him with sixteen other possibilities. It could be anyone crossing to the other side with him, and he had no clue who would risk it all, with him of all people. It could be anyone, but it wouldn’t be Jungwoo.

None of this was fair. Neo was a fucking nightmare. “I’m sorry, Kun,” Yukhei muttered.

“Don’t be,” he replied. A smile grew on his face, although it wouldn’t reach his eyes. “It’s what I’m here for.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember the china line vlives... good times
> 
> and is that... more upcoming conflict im hinting to? damn... where did all that first chapter fluff go
> 
> (big side note: anyone here watched the real bros of simi valley season 2? would love to debate on who are nct as the real bros. i say debate but really i just want to share my cast to someone lol)
> 
> (second side note: kun is hot)


	5. DOYOUNG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this hurt can’t be healed, no matter how hard doyoung tries.

**v**. DOYOUNG

 

There wasn’t much to do in Neo. You could walk, you could talk to people, you could go to the store, decorate your room, but that was it. No entertainment, and no services. In an eighteen-people-town, it was rather hard to make things work like they would in a big city. It was simple, after all; Neo didn’t have the manpower to create and maintain the necessary institutions.

The buildings were all there, though: the school was all set up and ready to be used, the hospital had functioning equipment, the public library was open to anyone who wanted to access it. Except there were no teachers, no doctors, no librarians, no engineers, no scientists, name it. There were eighteen people, half of whom weren’t of age, and none had the appropriate education to make anything work. And if they did, well, they forgot about it the second they stepped in.

For small tasks, there was Mark. If someone needed help about something, he showed up. He was a diligent boy, never failing to show up and do what was asked of him. If a citizen had trouble navigating the city, they could wait a little and Mark would be there to help. If someone wanted a hand to, let’s say, clean up their house, Mark would go. He had to; it was his responsibility, just as other people in the town had their own. This was his.

It was already pretty demanding, but he seemed to manage. Sure, he had less time to hang out with friends, or take time for himself, but it wasn’t too bad. Until Jaemin got sick.

Neo had no doctor. Neo had a hospital, but Neo didn’t have anyone who knew how the stuff there worked. No one could help him, and even if the blood coming out Jaemin’s nose and mouth made everyone’s stomach turn, no one knew how to stop it. All they knew was someone had to do something, help him, and that demand belonged in Mark’s field. Mark, who wasn’t much older than his friend, was tasked to figure out – alone – how to save his life.

Doyoung was astonished by the decision. The Council was notoriously known for taking the worst alternatives, thanks to the low participation of its members, but this was too much. At least Donghyuck had the decency to be as shocked as Doyoung, the only other one realising how ridiculous this option was. But worse, Mark accepted the job, consequently letting all of Neo walk over him. _Not on my watch_.

After a few days of Doyoung following Mark around and refusing to believe his lies (“I can do this, it won’t be that bad, Doyoung, I don’t need your help, Doyoung”), he finally gave in, almost falling asleep on the chair by Jaemin’s bedside. They ended up with an arrangement Doyoung wasn’t entirely satisfied about, because Mark was too stubborn to give up on his assigned job. During the day, Mark would stay with Jaemin and do whatever he was supposed to do – he hadn’t figured it out quite yet – and Doyoung would stay with the ill stricken boy during the night.

But Doyoung was stubborn too, and so he gave himself the role of hospital secretary, staying in the lobby during Mark’s work hours to control the flow of visitors. Mark wasn’t too happy about it, but after understanding Doyoung wasn’t backing down, he let it go. Plus, Doyoung’s strategic placement came in useful, considering Jaemin had a lot of visitors coming in at random hours and Mark wouldn’t get any research done if they all got in without supervision.

The younger ones came in often, seeing as they were closer in age and all friends with each other. Chenle came by a lot, whether it was with Jisung, Renjun, or by himself, which surprised Doyoung the most. He didn’t visit as much as Donghyuck though, who came by once a day to provide both Jaemin and Mark with moral support. As for the older ones, they dropped by to take news of his health from Doyoung, answerless. People preferred to talk with him rather than go see the boy in his room and face a truth they wanted to ignore. People who weren’t Lee Jeno, of course.

He didn’t care for Doyoung in the slightest. When the latter came by Jaemin’s room to end visiting hours, therefore letting Mark work on a solution, Jeno’s gaze would become murderous, bumping into his shoulder forcefully as he left the room with a huff. On other occasions, the boy tried to sneak into the hospital, thinking he was slicker than Doyoung, and when he was forced to admit defeat, Jeno’s hands would turn into fists as he groaned while leaving.

Stories like these would happen multiple times a day, the boy never wanting to leave Jaemin’s side for more than ten minutes. Climbing in from Jaemin’s window, crouching under Doyoung’s desk not to be seen, walking with confidence, straight up disguising himself; Doyoung had to admit he was creative. It was endearing to see someone care so much about their friend, but Doyoung had a job to do, and so did Mark.

One day, Jeno wouldn’t leave. He kept coming in even more than usual, up to the point where Doyoung had to physically put himself in front of the corridor’s entrance to stop him for attempting anything. This only seemed to provoke the teenager further; Doyoung could feel on his skin the fire in Jeno’s eyes. He wanted to get through, and he would do anything to succeed. Including tackling Doyoung to the floor.

Jeno ran toward him at full speed, Doyoung instinctively opening his arms to catch him. Putting one foot backward to steady his fall proved to be useful, as Jeno got trapped into Doyoung’s tight brace and all the wriggling in the world couldn’t get him to fall or let him go. The teen groaned as he tried to escape, but Doyoung was stronger than he looked.

“Let me see him,” Jeno growled, his nails digging into Doyoung’s forearm, kicking the air in an attempt to throw him off balance. Doyoung winced, but kept a tight hold onto the boy. But Jeno had drive, like his brother before him. “Let me fucking see him!”

“I can’t let you do that,” Doyoung objected, bringing them out of the corridor and back into the lobby, where they could make a fuss without bothering Mark. He hoped Jaemin hadn’t heard anything; he’d only feel guilty on Jeno’s behalf, and that couldn’t be helpful to his recovery in any possible way. “This is for the best. This is how you help him,” he reminded the younger, whose frown kept carving his face deeper with each word coming out of Doyoung’s mouth.

“There is no helping him! No one knows anything!” he exclaimed, movements less frantic as if acknowledging Doyoung wouldn’t let him go, but still showing his dissatisfaction as best he could. “Mark doesn’t know shit, and you don’t know shit, Doyoung.”

And he was right. He was awfully right, and constantly lied to by Doyoung and others trying to cheer him up, but if they wanted this to work, they had to hold onto the hope that someone, anyone, would bring the answer, the cure. Giving up, accepting they couldn’t do anything, was letting Jaemin die. And out of all people, Jeno needed that the most; the possibility it could get better. Whether it rang true or not. “Jeno, please, listen—”

“I don’t know how long we have!” Jeno’s voice broke, a sob escaping his lips along the sorrows he had kept inside for so long. He froze in Doyoung’s arms, heavily breathing as Doyoung took the time to process the weight of his words, unsure if Jeno had ever meant to say anything in the first place.

Jeno wasn’t okay. Far from it. He couldn’t stand by and watch life leave his friend piece by piece until nothing remained. Jaemin was his best friend, the one human in this city who could understand him better than anyone, put his worries at ease, bring a smile out of him no matter what. But Jeno was a realist, and he knew it could only end one way: alone.

Doyoung didn’t know how to react. Should he let him go? The way they had been brawling earlier, Doyoung could only see the back of his head, leaving his facial expressions to imagination. Was Jeno crying? Was he scrunching up his nose because of the weird proximity with Doyoung? Should he take him by the shoulders and hug him tight? Should he let him go see his friend?

“I don’t know how long we have,” Jeno repeated, his voice hoarse and worn down. The sadness in his words prompted Doyoung to switch up from their awkward position into a full-on bear hug, engulfing the teen back into his arms, but this time, in a way he hoped to be comforting. Slowly, he felt Jeno’s arms tighten around his back, giving in, pressing his face against Doyoung’s shoulder. A relief, for both of them. “I just want time, Doyoung,” he added, muffled. “I want time.”

  


} {

  


“Are you letting me win on purpose?” Jeno knocked the white King out of the board, a triumphant smirk on his lips – he was mocking Doyoung at this point. This was his third win in a row, and the younger wasn’t planning on stopping, to the older’s greatest displeasure. “For your sake, I hope you are. If not, no offense, but you’re pathetic at this.”

Doyoung scoffed, picking the piece back up. He should have chosen the black pawns. Yeah, that would have changed everything. “Don’t talk to me like that. I taught you how to play chess, talk to me with respect,” he scowled, his serious face having no effect on the younger, his smile only growing brighter.

“You mean the instruction pamphlet taught me,” Jeno corrected. Doyoung pulled out the most offended face he could muster, bringing a laugh out of the boy. “But if you insist, that means the student has surpassed the master. Which also makes you look bad.”

It hadn’t taken them long to reach this state of camaraderie. The two were surprisingly similar, personality-wise. Jeno was as much of a cleaning freak as he was – which profoundly moved Doyoung –, he liked the same condiments on his burgers and he also didn’t get what was the appeal about snow. Random things like that, strengthening their blossoming friendship. He was also very mature – when he wanted to be –, often speaking older than his age. Doyoung recognised his younger self in him. It was a wonder they hadn’t been friends earlier.

Doyoung sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “The master admits to his defeat,” he gave up, breaking into a smile as well. “My congratulations.”

It wasn’t exactly friendship, either; Jeno was more like the little brother he never had. He was undeniably younger, no matter how much he acted like an adult at times. They might relate to each other with their preferences and whatnot, but they were far from being at the same point in their lives. Doyoung always held a big brother persona towards the younger ones in Neo, but with Jeno, it felt more genuine, a bond made through bickering and sharing like real siblings would, siblings who were there for each other.

Needless to say, Doyoung would protect the boy with his life, if it ever came down to it. So of course he would let him win dumb games of chess or cards again and again, as long as it made him happy. Jeno had the cutest eye smile Doyoung had ever seen, and it couldn’t go to waste because of some hard times.

“Play for real, next time, though” Jeno complained, leaning his elbows over the counter. “Or at least get a game you’re good at. It’s boring if there’s no competition,” he pouted, and how could Doyoung refuse anything from those adorable puppy eyes? How could anyone, really?

“Alright, alright. Duly noted,” he conceded, though this hadn’t been a hard decision to make in the first place. If losing would make Jeno just as happy, then defeat it was for the younger. He wouldn’t even know what was coming.

They were gathering the pawns in comfortable silence (some had fallen to the ground after an unexpected move rendered Doyoung in shock) when Jeno spoke again. “Thank you, Doyoung.” His voice was soft, almost a whisper, as if he feared to be heard. Doyoung frowned, trying to understand what these words referred to. “For the ice cream and all.”

They had picked up a routine, after a while. Jeno would come in the mornings to visit Jaemin, and around midday, Doyoung would interrupt them and take his protégé to lunch. They had given themselves the goal to visit every establishment in Neo that served food, and they hadn’t even tried a quarter of what Neo offered, two weeks later.

“You don’t have to thank me every day, Jeno,” Doyoung reminded, the same reply to the same words every day. It was nothing big, really. He enjoyed spending time with him, and he wasn’t doing this because he felt guilty of his situation. They were friends, and Jeno mattered to him. Doyoung often felt like he should be doing the thanking, for Jeno putting his trust in him. It was a gift more precious than sweet treats could ever be.

“I know,” Jeno smiled, eyes turning to crescents. “But I want you to know I’m thankful. For taking my mind off things. It means a lot to me,” he added, looking anywhere but Doyoung. The older often asked the younger how he felt, they were used to talking feelings together, seeing as Doyoung worried too much for his own good, but it was rare Jeno said what was on his mind without being prompted to do so.

Doyoung’s heart made a little jump at the confession. _You absolute sweetest baby boy alive, you deserve everything and more_. “Get a good night’s sleep, okay?” He said instead, grabbing his wrist to catch his attention. The boy was distracted these days, and Doyoung wasn’t blind; the circles under his eyes were growing with each passing day, and no activity to take his mind off things could erase them.

“You should, too,” Jeno retorted, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t think I don’t see you yawn every time I turn my back.”

Doyoung chuckled, shaking his head. The boy never ceased to make him feel like a proud brother, even when he was being called out. Okay, maybe he too had slacked on sleep, but Doyoung had a self-proclaimed job to maintain. Their situations couldn’t have been more different. “When did you get to know me this well?” He asked, ruffling the younger’s hair affectionately.

Jeno shook his head, pushing the older’s hand away, feigning annoyance. As if Doyoung didn’t know the younger liked this as much as he did. “You’re like an open book, Doyoung,” he shrugged, smug smile on his face as he backed away towards the exit. “Or maybe I’m just really smart.” And with those last words, he waved at Doyoung and left the premises.

In retrospect, now that Jeno had left and the lobby turned silent, today wasn’t Doyoung’s day. First, losing at chess – he said he let Jeno win, but really, Doyoung couldn’t tell after a few moves –, then, being exposed about his inexistent sleep pattern, and now brought back to reality with the description Jeno had made of him. An open book?

It wasn’t that it offended him. He wasn’t mad; it was physically impossible for Doyoung to be angry at Jeno. It was more that he had never seen himself that way, and now that someone had pointed it out, he wouldn’t be able to think about anything else for the next few days. Him, an open book? It must have made sense, for Jeno to point it out, after a month of knowing each other. Except Doyoung couldn’t see it, and now it was irking him, like a splinter that wouldn’t go away. Oh no, could it get infected? Well, that settled it: he should definitely get some sleep.

He hadn’t even noticed Jaehyun get in until he flicked Doyoung’s forehead, holding nothing back. It should have hurt, Doyoung knew very well the power of Jaehyun’s forehead attacks, but it didn’t, his brain busy managing his previous concerns while processing the newer events. When did he even get here? How long had he been lost in thought?

“Am I an open book, Jaehyun?” He let out, forgetting about the normal human procedure for greeting people into a workplace. Well, now he had confirmation he wouldn’t be able to get his mind off the age-old question, not even if Jaehyun flicked his brain out of his cranium.

“Fuck yes you are,” he answered, leaning his elbow on the counter and opening a candy wrapper from the bowl Doyoung kept at his desk. They were meant for the children, but Jaehyun was the only one eating them, much to Doyoung’s dismay.

“That much?” he exclaimed. The betrayal, the heartache, he hoped it all transpired in the sad pout he was making. He thought Jaehyun would take his side, say something nice to lift his spirit, but no, he had to be the same old douche and actually answer. Doyoung crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his desk chair. “Then, what I am thinking about?”

Jaehyun raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? You’re always thinking about the kids, Do,” he shrugged, popping another sweet into his mouth. He was so nonchalant about everything; it was infuriating. “And now you’re thinking that I’m annoying. Easy. I could do this all day.”

Doyoung rolled his eyes. Was it too much of him to ask for Jaehyun to lie in order to make him feel better about himself? And why didn’t people think of him, Doyoung, as a mysterious guy? He had secrets too, he supposed. Maybe not as big as some people in this town, but like, maybe. “So I’m predictable. Ugh,” he sighed, his head dropping in defeat. Kim ‘Open Book’ Doyoung it was.

“That’s not a bad thing,” Jaehyun smirked, leaning in closer to Doyoung over the counter. He was up to no good, Doyoung knew him that well. It didn’t help he was so damn good looking up close; Doyoung wanted to hear more of his bullshit, if it came out a pretty mouth like his. “That’s how I like you,” he winked. There it was.

“Are you flirting with me— This is a hospital, Jung Jaehyun. Have some respect,” Doyoung scolded, his secretary instincts kicking in. “And stop eating all the candy,” he added, swatting Jaehyun’s hand away from the bowl. They were for the kids, not a grown ass bored man, no matter how cute he was.

It was Jaehyun’s turn to pout in despair. “Where else am I supposed to flirt with you?” He complained, grabbing Doyoung’s hand and intertwining their fingers. Jaehyun was far from a romantic, his present behaviour confusing Doyoung, but the latter wasn’t complaining. He liked it far more than he would ever admit it. “You’re never out of here.”

Doyoung smiled at his words. It was clear now, and the perfect opportunity to embarrass him. He tilted his head, letting out a soft giggle and giving Jaehyun’s hand a light squeeze. “Awn. You miss me.”

Jaehyun stifled, taken aback. It was fun to see him out of words, for once. “I don’t remember saying any of these words,” he defended himself, an eyebrow raised. Doyoung rolled his eyes; they both knew Jaehyun was right, but would it hurt him to say them?

He shook his thoughts away, getting back into the game. “You didn’t have to say them,” Doyoung smirked, a brilliant idea making its way in. “I’m not the only open book this city has to offer.” _This is what you get for not taking my side, Jung_.

As Doyoung predicted, Jaehyun had not expected that one either, a mix between a scoff and a chuckle escaping his lips. He let go of Doyoung’s hand, crossing his arms over his chest in what Doyoung presumed to be an intimidating stance, but this strategy had never worked on him before, and it wouldn’t now either. “Alright then, what am I thinking about?” He challenged, Doyoung wanting to pinch the smug look off his lips.

He wouldn’t lie; Jaehyun brought out a competitive side to him he had no idea existed before. To any other living soul, he would crumble in embarrassment at his own words, but since Jaehyun came into his life, the only thing that mattered was outsmarting him. Which wasn’t that hard, considering Jaehyun was a first class idiot. “Me, dumbass,” Doyoung laughed.

Was he very sleep-deprived or did he just see Jaehyun’s cheeks blush? “Bold of you to say that, Kim Doyoung,” he retorted, as if he weren’t the one who had previously joined their hands together, told him he liked him not two seconds later, and was blushing at Doyoung’s reverse confession. Oh, Jaehyun, you big secret softie.

“Why else would you come in here?” Doyoung started, and he could tell by the look on Jaehyun’s face he was already right. “Certainly not for the kids. Last week you called them ‘whiny babies’ and threatened to never come in here again if Renjun stepped foot inside the building one more time, if I recall correctly.”

Jaehyun rolled his eyes, heaving out a sigh. “It doesn’t mean I don’t care for them,” he corrected, avoiding Doyoung’s original question. “It means they’re whiny,” he shrugged, looking away from him, more specifically towards the bowl of sweets. “And young. And that Renjun is an asshole.”

Maybe Doyoung liked him a lot, but when it came to the kids, Jaehyun could burn in the forest for all he cared. “ _He’s_ the asshole?” he exclaimed, surprising Jaehyun enough to make him back away a little. Insulting the younger ones? Not on his watch. “You’re the one who decided burning down trees was better than buildings. You brought this on yourself.”

Jaehyun scoffed, but it wasn’t cute anymore. “I burned two trees, not the entire forest,” he said, holding two fingers up for emphasis. “Who says I’ll keep doing that anyway? And— wait, did you just call me an asshole?” He tilted his head, confusion catching up to him.

The man needed a reality check, at some point. “I sure did,” Doyoung admitted, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his desk chair. “You’re an asshole. There, I said it again.” He mouthed it one more time for good measure, to make sure the message was clear as day. Jaehyun was an asshole; everyone in town knew, having firsthand experience. Everyone except for Jaehyun, at times. And during those times, Doyoung would be there, using his special privilege of being able to say it without fearing for his life and reminding him of his true nature.

Jaehyun didn’t reply straight away, clicking his tongue and tapping his fingers on the counter. Then, he snickered, licking his lips as he locked eyes with Doyoung, who was not happy to see the smug look back on his face. “Fuck, Doyoung, you should swear more. That was hot.”

Jaehyun was an idiot. Simple as that. Doyoung didn’t roll his eyes at the comment, didn’t let out a sound of discomfort, because Jaehyun was dumb. He was bad at taking other people’s feelings in consideration, but he had told Doyoung he was working on it, and Doyoung wanted to believe it was true. And so, instead of getting angry, Doyoung decided to opt for a reminder. “And you should take me seriously once in a while.”

The thing about Doyoung and Jaehyun was that they weren’t a thing. Jaehyun was a hot mess with a penchant for making other people angry, but he wasn’t _Doyoung’s_ hot mess. He wasn’t his, and vice versa. Sure, they flirted and made out and had seen each other in pretty vulnerable positions on multiple occasions, but it wasn’t _anything_. And on some days, like today, it bothered Doyoung, to be nothing.

“Huh. I guess we’re both imperfect. And easily readable,” Jaehyun concluded, leaning back over the counter with a smile on his face Doyoung wasn’t reciprocating. “But seriously, Do. You’re always in here,” he whined, moving to take back Doyoung’s hand in his. “This can’t be healthy for you.”

Doyoung looked away, putting away both his hands on his lap before Jaehyun could touch him. “Since when do you care?”

Was Doyoung bitter? A little. He wanted something with him, he did. He knew Jaehyun in a way no one else did; not like the arsonist of Neo, but as the guy who would come by the hospital to bring him the dandelions he found on the way. And he tried to let him know he wanted something more. It was mostly subtle hints, and that counted, right? But either Jaehyun was blind, or painfully aware of a situation he didn’t want to handle.

Jaehyun blinked, followed by a frown. “I care, Doyoung,” he confided, his voice lower, quieter. Doyoung looked up at him again; he had never seen Jaehyun so serious before, his gaze almost unbearable. Jaehyun looked away for a second, taking a deep breath before connecting their eyes again. “How about this: I walk you home, you get changed into the classiest outfit you have, and I take you out to dinner?”

Doyoung froze. Had Jaehyun said what he thought he said? “Like… a date?” He asked, demanding confirmation this was truly what Jaehyun was suggesting. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but his heart was beating faster already, and he could feel his cheeks heat up.

“Yeah. Like a date,” Jaehyun confirmed, cocking his head to the side and bringing out the signature smirk of his. Oh man. Oh boy. “Interesting offer, isn’t it?”

Damn, this was real. This was happening. Doyoung couldn’t help but smile at his words, even though that arrogant smile on Jaehyun’s face annoyed him to no end. Who gave him the right? “I won’t lie, I am very tempted,” he confessed, knowing full well his cheeks must have been brick red by now. However, it didn’t take long for his smile to fall. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. “But you know I can’t leave Jaemin unsupervised, and I won’t let Mark stay any longer than he’s supposed to,” he reminded the man, always putting his responsibilities before leisure. This wasn’t for his sake, but for the kids’ as well; he couldn’t fail them, not today.

Jaehyun rubbed the back of his neck, mumbling something under his breath Doyoung couldn’t make out. Before he could ask, the front door flung open, letting in a gush of wind and an angry looking individual. Jaehyun turned around, just as surprised. “I guess Johnny can cover for you.”

Said Johnny was marching straight towards the forbidden corridor behind Doyoung’s desk, his strides quick, not even bothering to say anything. Doyoung was confused; he had never seen Johnny this mad and silent as he walked to the one place he wasn’t supposed to go. Johnny, breaking a rule? “Hey, you’re not supposed to—”

“I don’t care, Doyoung!” Johnny spat back, opening the corridor’s entrance and slamming it shut behind him. This was abnormal. Doyoung was about to go after him, getting up from his chair, but Jaehyun took him by the wrist before he could get the chance to turn around.

“I— I asked him earlier to cover for you,” he explained, tugging at Doyoung’s wrist to bring him closer. Doyoung wasn’t feeling any better about it, doubts creeping up rapidly, until Jaehyun brushed off the hair that had fallen over his forehead, the touch making him forget about the previous events instantly. “He’s angry about something else, don’t start worrying now. He went in because, well, you know him, he likes to do things his own way. See, everything’s going to work out.” Jaehyun’s voice softened, hand slipping from Doyoung’s wrist to his hand, bringing back their fingers together. “I just want to wine and dine you, Kim Doyoung. Amongst other things,” he winked, Doyoung rolling his eyes. Nasty pervert. “Will you let me?”

Doyoung pretended to think long and hard about it, fingers stroking his chin for dramatic effect. Of course the answer was yes, yes, _yes_! But he’d never give Jaehyun the satisfaction. “We’ll see about those other things later, but sure. I guess I agree to go on a date with you.”

Jaehyun broke into the biggest grin, all wide and goofy, and Doyoung swore he could see his eyes sparkle at the answer. “Does that mean I can finally call you babe now? Pretty please? Babe? Baby?”

 _How about ‘your boyfriend’?_ Doyoung couldn’t help but think. Maybe he’d say the words out loud later. They had time. “You’re impossible,” he huffed, smiling back. They had all the time in the world. “But that’s how I like you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry dreamies i love u.
> 
> thank you for following this story so far! im appreciating your feedback and kudos with all my heart <3


	6. TAEYONG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> maybe taeyong is angry. maybe he’s just waiting on someone who understands.

**vi**. TAEYONG

 

Some people liked Neo. Those people were dead wrong.

Neo was an abomination. A fucking black hole sucking life’s happiness. A fucking joke, a prank going on for so long people forgot it was made up. A cage, and inside it, citizens walking around saying ‘ _This is fine_ ’ when it fucking wasn’t, and Taeyong in that same cage, the only one being granted eyes functioning enough to see all the fucked up shit it held within its walls.

Taeyong had never been to another city. He was born in Neo, or so the story told. But, how could he know this city was wrong, if he had never seen any other one? Simple: gut feeling. If there was anything Neo had taught him, it was to trust himself before trusting others; and if his gut told him this place wasn’t normal, then this place was not fucking normal.

Absurd was the word he was looking for. Absurd, which meant ‘wildly unreasonable, illogical or inappropriate’ according to the dictionary in his study, was the perfect definition of the city he had grown up in. Point already proven, considering he couldn’t remember growing up in Neo, something that should be illogical by all means. He was there one day. He supposed he had been there many days before. But he had no memory of it. Blank pages after blank pages of a history forgotten by all including himself.

Absurd were the physics of Neo. A shrinking Sun and Moon. Unlimited food supply. A literal human tracker walking around telling them what to do. Indestructible buildings. And, a fact he had learned more recently, no animals – whatever those things were –, and therefore no real ecosystem. These kids could come in handy, when it came to pointing out inaccuracies in this fuckass world Taeyong hated. If only it could stop there.

Because absurd were the people in it. Someone who liked to dance in the middle of City Center for no reason, even on the days Taeyong made sure to play the most disruptive music he could find on lonely days spent in the archive room. Another guy who could put his hands on your shoulders and make you feel calm all of a sudden, a feeling Taeyong loathed. Or even this random dude staring at him from across the room, long after the Council had been adjourned and just, like, _staring_.

“What’s your deal, Taeil?” He asked the guy, shifting in his seat. His stare was making Taeyong uncomfortable – and the latter had already been crowned king of making people uneasy in a landslide victory long ago.

“What’s yours?” Taeil replied, eyebrow raised. The guy had always been a confusing presence in Neo, leaving others often dumbfounded every time he opened his mouth, but Taeyong had never had to deal with it before, until today. And the verdict: he was a fucking weirdo.

Taeyong frowned at the sentence, tilting his head. People usually answered his questions without arguing, considering half of the town was scared of him, or rather, scared of pissing him off. An unusual response coming from the town weirdo, but he should have expected it, at this point. “What are you still doing here?”

Taeil leaned forward in his chair, the corner of his mouth raised slightly. This couldn’t mean well. “What are _you_ still—”

“I live here, you clown,” he grunted, breaking off the pattern before it could go on any further. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Outside office hours, this was his house, and that meant the guy was intruding. He could be kicked out any instant, yet preferred playing cocky with him? The nerve. “And I asked you a question.”

Taeil chuckled, as if trying his hardest to become even more unnerving. Well, if this were the case, he was succeeding. “You asked two.”

“Get the fuck out.”

Raising his hands in surrender, Taeil got up, walking from his spot at back to the front of the room, closer the door where he was hopefully headed. The soles of his feet were loud against the wooden floor, his steps somewhat ominous. Then, he stopped in his tracks, hands hidden behind his back, throwing an awful grin at Taeyong who already despised where this was going. “Don’t you want to be my friend?”

Oh, great. Taeyong hated charades, guessing games, whatever the fuck this was, and right now, he hated Taeil much more. “What?” he snapped, unable to find a coherent sentence to answer what was possibly the weirdest, most narcissistic question in existence. “What the fuck, man?”

“Ask me. Ask if I want to be your friend, then I’ll leave,” Taeil requested, his tone demanding, eyes preying on Taeyong, a strange glint within them refracting the light of the chandelier giving him goosebumps. This was not the way Taeyong had expected his night to be, far from it. He was never coming to this room alone again.

“For fuck’s sake,” Taeyong sighed, rubbing his temples. Why would the embodiment of everything abnormal in Neo disturb him about such bullshit? Taeyong must have done something awful in his previous life, to be greeted by such a strange guest and his even stranger demand. If he wanted Taeil gone, he had to play the game. “Do you want to be my friend?”

The older man smiled, showing off his pearly white teeth. If this was an attempt to appear more amicable, it was failing miserably; the grin was more horrific than anything. “No, thanks. I don’t need you.”

These words took the cake, and the absolute absurdity of it all made Taeyong’s mind go blank. It felt peaceful for a few seconds, but reality had a nice way of slapping him in the face to bring him back to Earth. This time, it was caused by Taeil’s laugh, obnoxious, loud. Fuck this guy. “You don’t have any friends, Taeil,” Taeyong reminded the older, putting him back in his place.

Taeil smirked. “Neither do you,” he replied, walking toward the exit. He halted as he got to the threshold, his hand turning the handle agonisingly slow. “Night night, Taeyong.”

See? Neo was the fucking potluck of absurdity. Nothing made sense, _nothing_. Just when Taeyong thought he was safe from the whack shit the world was throwing at him, all by himself in the dead of the night, someone had to come along and spit some more nonsense he definitely didn’t need.

He wanted something simple. Something predictable, boring even, as long as he didn’t have to deal with shit like that. Was it too much to ask? For a life that wasn’t batshit crazy? He would be happy to sit on a rocking chair on the porch of an old house, admiring a field as the sun set on the horizon. No fireworks, no magic, just a simple moment kept to its basics would be more than enough. Necessary, even.

But this was Neo. He wouldn’t get that here, ever. Sure, there were fields, sure, there were ancient houses and rocking chairs, but there were no sunsets, and an incessant buzz of weirdass energy washing over him. If he wanted simplicity, he’d have to find it someplace else. Somewhere far from Neo, where the absurdity of the city wouldn’t be able to touch him: the Not-Neo.

Except he didn’t want to go. The Not-Neo had been ruined for him, before he could even know what it truly was. The Not-Neo would have to remain an unsolved mystery, and Taeyong would never fulfill this dream of his where he could take a deep breath in, a deep breath out, and listen to the wind’s lullabies without a worry in sight. He was unwanted there. He couldn’t go, as much as he wanted to.

He dreamt of peace, stuck in his own raging warzone. Quite the paradox. Maybe that was why no one dared to approach him; abnormal, unusual, _absurd_ Lee Taeyong and his oxymoron of a life. Maybe he had his place here; maybe he was just as crazy as this world. Maybe he had deserved to be left behind.

As he was about to go wallow his self-pity in the comfort of his room, the door opened again, the cold air making him shiver. If this were Taeil again, Taeyong wouldn’t be able to keep his fists away from the older’s face if he dared open his mouth to say more stupid shit. Fortunately for everyone, the intruder was someone else, a relief.

Armed with a broom and a bucket, the newcomer made his way toward the center of the room, struggling to juggle with the objects. He hadn’t noticed Taeyong yet, quietly humming to himself as he set up his equipment – cleaning supplies, it seemed, as the man got some towels out of the bucket. Only then did he turn around, his eyes going wide as he finally saw Taeyong, still frozen in his seat.

“Oh, gosh,” the man let out, putting a hand over his chest. He chuckled after overcoming the initial shock, a dimpled smile stretching across his face. Oh, that was cute. “Sorry, I didn’t expect anyone here,” he said, a voice full of honey and silk, soft to the ears.

 _Same here_. “I didn’t expect anyone coming in either,” Taeyong replied, examining the man with a careful eye. He recognised him, having seen him around town a couple of times, but his name, Taeyong couldn’t remember. He might have never known, actually; he wasn’t a fan of meeting new people, and therefore, half the foreigners remained nameless in Taeyong’s book. After a short while, he realised he must have looked like Taeil creepily staring at him, and so he looked away, eyes travelling to the ground.

He could see the man shift on his legs from the corner of his eyes, both of them unsure of what to do now. Taeyong should have asked for his name, but the other spoke up first, hands reaching out to gather his things. “I can come back later, if I’m—”

“No, it’s fine,” Taeyong interrupted, his voice louder than he had intended. Great, now he would scare him off, too. Old habits die hard. “I was just surprised. I didn’t know City Hall had a… janitor service,” he continued, shrugging, trying to erase his small outburst with a relaxed attitude instead. Fuck, he was fucking pathetic. No wonder no one wanted to be friends with him. He should have left already. “I can go—”

“I don’t mind,” the man cut him off, taking one step closer to Taeyong. Maybe he hadn’t scared him, after all. Strangely, Taeyong felt relieved. “You can stay, if you want. I do this alone usually,” he explained, giving Taeyong a welcoming, attractive smile. “I could talk with you instead of myself for once. Might be nice,” he chuckled again.

He was cute. He seemed nice enough, and happy to be there. He hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary yet. What did Taeyong have better to do, anyway? “Okay. Cool.” Sure, he could stay and chat with a stranger. It was surprising enough when people who knew him wanted to talk; he wasn’t in a place to deny an opening like this one. The man— ah, fuck. “I’m sorry, I feel real stupid to say this, but… I don’t know your name.”

Instead of getting angry, the guy smirked at Taeyong, broom in hand. “We’re eighteen people in total and you don’t know everyone’s name?” He called out. Yes, Taeyong knew how much it made him sound like an asshole to say that, but at least he could admit it, right? It would have been worse to pretend. Would it? Fuck, did he mess this up again? “I’m just playing with you. No need to feel bad. I’m Kun,” he introduced himself, bowing a little. “It’s Taeyong, right? The mayor’s son.”

Maybe he _should_ have fucked up. “In a mayor-less town. Yep.” He fucking hated that title. Despised it more than Neo itself, if that were possible. There was no mayor here; why would people call him that? Why? It made no sense, and it cemented him as part of the absurdity Neo was. And he hated that, so fucking much, enough to make him want to scream at that Kun guy to leave him alone.

But the other thing was, he couldn’t get angry. One, it would only reinforce the hurtful stereotypes about him, floating around town. ‘That’s Taeyong, he’s the angry guy,’ he had once heard Johnny introduce him as. Two, it was obvious the guy hadn’t said it to anger him. Out of curiosity, but not in malice. And lastly, stronger than hate was his tiredness, his exhaustion about it all. If he remained unable to change anyone’s mind, perhaps he should stop trying. “Is this all I’m known for?” He let out, barely registering what he was doing, what he was really asking deep down: _Is this all I am?_

Kun didn’t answer straight away, looking around the room. “I can’t speak for everyone,” he started, sweeping the floor as he spoke. He wasn’t looking at Taeyong, but the latter would have liked the reassurance of Kun’s kind eyes on him. “I’ve heard some things about you, I won’t lie. We’re all associated with words we’d rather not have on our backs. That’s what life with other people is,” he shrugged. “You get branded as something, and it’s your choice to either act upon it or break the mould.”

He spoke of experience; Taeyong could feel it in his tone, his voice faltering ever so slightly. He could also tell Kun was a good person, for he tried to navigate on the touchy subject without hurting his feelings like others might have. Who was this guy, and how could he feel the same as him? What happened to him inside this town that Taeyong had been oblivious to? “Which one did you choose?” He asked, curiosity getting the best of him. He might not have known Kun at all, but whoever made him feel this way could rot for all he cared.

Kun sighed, leaning his weight on his broom. “Both. Neither. I don’t think any choice was the right one,” he answered, throwing him a smile without the genuine touch of earlier. It felt estranged to see that, as if it didn’t belong there. Nothing seemed fake about Kun, and the stark contrast resonated with Taeyong in a way he couldn’t explain.

Perhaps it was the difference in character. When he looked at himself in the mirror, Taeyong often saw an impostor, the way he was presented to the world miles away from what he was to the core. Rare were these moments when he felt genuine, when the world saw him as he truly were. It used to be easier, with someone by his side. Now, he was alone in his misery.

The way Kun held himself told him more than their few words exchanged did. A guy who knew what the fuck he was doing, unlike Taeyong. A dude who knew how to talk to people, unlike Taeyong. A man with such a bright smile he was barely used to faking it, unlike Taeyong. Fuck, he was getting annoying, with all that perfection. Fucking cleaning other people’s places at night out of free will? Who even did that? Nerds, that was who.

“Shouldn’t Mark be doing this?” He commented after a couple minutes of silence and overthinking. Kun got a spray bottle from his bucket, having finished with the floor and moving on to the tables. “Isn’t he the one in charge of every chore or something?” He recalled from a long forgotten Council meeting where he had been moping too hard over himself to follow.

Kun nodded. “He is, but we don’t let him,” he disclosed. “Doyoung and I didn’t agree with the decision, so we do some of his work in secret.” Of the things Taeyong did remember, Doyoung’s furious rant at the decision was one. He hadn’t been aware Doyoung had actually done something about it, and frankly, it impressed him. And good samaritan Kun following his footsteps? Taeyong wasn’t surprised, not for a second. “Mark doesn’t know he’s supposed to clean the reunion room, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him either.”

Hold up, why the accusative tone, now? He was the ‘ _angry mayor’s son_ ’ guy, not the ‘ _incapable of keeping a secret_ ’ guy. And here he thought Kun wouldn’t be the judgemental type. “Why would I tell him?” He frowned. Taeyong couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to Mark, anyway. “What makes you think I would tell him?”

“I don’t know,” Kun said with a shrug, pursing his lips. “You might get sick of me,” he chuckled, his smile a little more genuine than earlier, but still far from reaching his eyes. “Things happen. I don’t know.”

He was looking out for Mark and the boy hadn’t the faintest idea. Kun didn’t have a single bad bone in his body, and Taeyong felt like absolute garbage for thinking badly of him seconds ago. Taeyong had gotten so used to being alone, he couldn’t recognise the pure of heart anymore, even when it was standing right in front of him. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he uttered, sinking in his chair. “The opposite is more likely.”

“I don’t think so,” Kun replied. He threw a towel over his shoulder, leaning his weight on the table, his eyes on Taeyong. “From what Hansol told me, you’re one of the good guys, and if there’s anyone I trust, it’s him.”

Oh, fucking hell. Not this, not now, not him. He wasn’t ready, he didn’t want to talk or hear anything about him. Fuck, hearing his name from another person’s mouth shouldn’t have sent goosebumps down his skin, but Taeyong was so weak when it came to him, he lost control of everything. “H— Hansol?”

Kun frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I thought you’d know. You really have no clue who I am, huh?” He observed, shaking his head. Yes, Taeyong was a selfish asshole, it had already been established, no need to shame him even more. “I was friends with Hansol too.”

Taeyong took a deep breath. His eyes were getting prickly, all of a sudden, and that couldn’t happen. “You were?” Hansol had lead a secretive life, that was for sure; Taeyong had no clue he hung out with other people. When did he even find the time? They used to spend almost every living second together. But then again, he had found the time to act behind Taeyong’s back, so, could he say he was surprised?

“Yeah. Not as much as you, though,” Kun added, piquing Taeyong interest. “He kept talking about you, like, all the time. And I’m not fond of exaggerations.” This was odd. Hansol had never said a word about Kun. Why would the contrary be true? Taeyong could hear his heart beat louder. _Don’t even fucking think about it, dumbass organ. Hansol didn’t_. “Figured I needed to see for myself what he was gushing on about.”

“Really? Talked about me?” He huffed, the urge to laugh growing strong. Hansol caring about Taeyong? Fucking funny. Fucking ironic; now one dared speak Hansol’s name anymore, not even Taeyong whose name had been replaced by people’s assumptions. Both silenced into nothingness. Nice fucking twist of fate. “He fucking ruined my life, you know. I hate him,” he muttered, an afterthought.

Kun went back to work, spraying product over the tabletops. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, wiping away the tables that were barely used anyway. If Taeyong had known Kun longer, he might have said he was stalling for time, but he kept the comment to himself.

“He— it was supposed to be together,” Taeyong continued, talking to himself. Hansol was supposed to tell him everything. Hansol had said he would come get him, when the time came. And then, he left, every single one of his promises unfulfilled, every single piece of Taeyong’s heart broken. “But no, fuck Taeyong, I guess,” he mumbled, almost a whisper. Fuck Hansol.

Kun let out a sigh, offering a tentative smile his way. Even the sweetness of it couldn’t tame down the anger boiling up Taeyong’s chest. “I’m sure he didn’t mean for it to happen like that—”

“And if that were true he would have come back for me,” Taeyong spat, fury boiling in his veins with each second spent talking about him. He was done with the bullshit. “Do you see him here? Do you see anyone close to me? No. He left me on purpose, and now I’m fucking lonely all the time. My own brother doesn’t talk to me anymore because I couldn’t handle other people after what that asshole did. I spend all my days alone and people take me for this irrational, unapproachable guy when I have every right to be angry after the stunt he pulled. But sure, he cared.”

The room fell to a deafening silence, the uncomfortable, stuffy kind grasping you by the arm to let you know it was there. Taeyong looked down, ashamed, regretful. He could feel Kun’s eyes on him, but his own were focused on his fingers fiddling with the rips of his jeans, less threatening than facing reality in the form of a man too good to be standing this close. Taeyong was the master at making situations the worst kind of awkward possible, and he wouldn’t mind if the universe dissolved him right now.

Taeyong was a man of many fuck-ups, but he knew when and where he went wrong, most of the time. The least he could do was own up to it when he had the chance, and he was dying to break that unbearable atmosphere. “I’m sorry, Kun. He was your friend and all, I’m being inconsiderate, I—”

“Taeyong, no need to apologise,” Kun stopped him, walking closer to Taeyong’s desk. There was a small mole under his eyebrow he couldn’t see from afar, and his dimple popped out when he spoke. “He did hurt you,” he agreed, and just like that, Taeyong felt a weigh lift off his shoulders. Granted, a small one, but a victory nonetheless. “Everyone needs to let out their worries at times. I’m happy to listen, if you need an ear.”

 _Stop being so fucking considerate and kind and cute, dammit_. “Easy for you to say,” Taeyong scoffed. “You don’t seem like a guy with worries.”

Kun chuckled, shaking his head. The smirk he wore wasn’t smug, but Taeyong knew instantly what he had said was off-rails. “I see the future, Taeyong. I’m worried about things that haven’t even happened yet,” he disclosed, and for a second, it felt like the ground would collapse under Taeyong, but when nothing happened, he let himself breathe. Of course there had to be a catch, of course Neo would have done something to him as well. Of course it would take some of his happiness away; that was all Neo was good for.

“I’m scared people only approach me for that, to tell them their future. I don’t know who are my real friends because of it,” Kun kept going, his voice getting smaller. It was almost imperceptible, but Taeyong noticed. The echo in the room wasn’t as strong anymore, though his words still reached Taeyong like they were being screamed. “See? We all have troubles,” he concluded, tilting his head. He looked down for a second, then back at him. His eyes were full of warmth. “You’re not alone in this, Taeyong.”

It was nice of Kun to say, but Taeyong could tell himself in the mirror for days on end the same thing, and he would still feel like the loneliest man in every room he walked in. He gave him a small smile anyway, grateful for his attempt at raising his mood. Not anyone would do that for him.

He remembered now. The magician, 8-ball, fortune-teller, he had heard those words around town, never quite knowing what they referred to. He thought it was a scam from the mall or something, never an actual person. That’s what Kun had meant, when he said words stuck to people. These words were his, like ‘ _angry_ ’ was Taeyong’s. But in his case, they wouldn’t always mean ‘ _human_ ’. “Why would you tell me, then? I could do exactly that.”

Kun sighed, as if he were expecting a question like that. “Everyone knows,” he shrugged. “I’m certain you’ve heard the rumours before; Chenle is pretty vocal about it.” A small chuckle, before his expression turned serious. “Yet, you didn’t try to find me. It wasn’t something you needed. What I can make of it is you won’t need it now either,” he explained, and Taeyong wondered if Kun also had the power to read people as well as their futures. “So yeah. In short, I trust you.”

Before, Taeyong had nothing to lose. Every time he said stupid shit, earning fiery glares from his peers, he could pretend none of it happened, go back to his regular schedule of loneliness. But now, a random night amongst other meaningless ones, a stranger had given him something to keep, something to better himself for. A reason to keep going; _Kun put his trust in you, now. Be careful not to lose it_. “Can I try something, then? Just once,” he asked, careful not to startle him, to make him go back on his word already.

“Sure. Why not,” he agreed, throwing a smile Taeyong’s way. He was too kind, that guy. “Ask anything.”

It didn’t take long for Taeyong to settle on a question, one he felt might put some of his worries at ease for a little while. “Will you regret talking with me today?” He said, his fingers crossed under the table. Hoping for what, exactly, he couldn’t tell.

No, that was a blatant lie. He could tell. He just didn’t want to say it, admit he was a fucking softie who would do anything to be liked, to be the guy people would go back for. To be important, even if it wasn’t meant to last. To be able to walk the path alongside another being, without hurt getting in the way. Without pain caused by him.

Kun took a moment to think, looking up to the high ceiling. Taeyong didn’t know how his ‘thing’ worked, so he could only hope this gesture meant a positive outcome. After what felt like fucking hours, he looked back at Taeyong, his traits completely neutral. “I will not, no,” he replied.

Taeyong couldn’t help the smile from coming out. Not being a lost cause? The greatest feeling in the world. “Good,” he blurted, his cheeks flushing, before realising how out of character he looked. No one could know about soft Taeyong, not even the purest human he had been so damn lucky to meet. “I mean, cool. Tight. Chill.”

“Cute,” Kun let out, going back to wiping the tables clean, a knowing smirk in the corner of his lips as Taeyong sat frozen in his seat, the blush creeping back up his cheeks in the most embarrassing manner possible. Fuck, this was not what he had signed up for when he let Kun in. Maybe he should have stuck to not saying a damn word to anyone, and avoid all consequent social faceplants.

Thankfully, Kun didn’t add anything that could fluster him even more, silence filling the room as he cleaned up the space. Taeyong noticed the man wore a constant frown when he was focused on a task, like now, putting all his strength into wiping clean the tabletops, but somehow, it didn’t make him seem any less approachable than when he sported his usual smile. He looked good whatever face he would make; how much power did this guy have? And where could Taeyong get some?

“This is a bit of a weird question, but I’ll ask anyway,” Kun broke the silence, gathering his cleaning supplies. The room looked pristine, no thanks to the boy who lived there. Kun pursed his lips, debating if he should say the words or back away, but he opened his mouth nonetheless, letting the words slip off his tongue. “Would you like a friend, Taeyong?”

Caught off-guard would earn the title for understatement of the year. Out of habit, Taeyong frowned, arms crossed over his chest. If Kun was joking again, it wasn’t a fucking good one. But before he could interject, Kun continued, ignoring Taeyong’s sudden change in attitude. “I know I might not be what you hoped for, but if you need a friend, I can be just that. It’s not so great to be alone. I know it sucks.” Only then did it strike him.

Someone wanted to be his friend. A stark contrast to the ‘ _No thanks, I don’t need you_ ’ Taeil had thrown at him not so long ago. “Do I look that pathetic?” He muttered, Kun’s eyes going wide, instant guilt crawling up Taeyong’s skin. “I’m just playing. Don’t look so shocked,” he chuckled to let out his nerves. As if Kun could ever fuck something up half as royally as Taeyong could.

Kun shook his head at Taeyong’s antics, the corners of his lips rising. “Can I take it as a yes, then?”

 _Fucking say it, Lee Taeyong, the mayor’s son, walking anger nightmare, it’s not that hard_. _You won’t get another chance_. “I…would like a friend. Yes.”

And just like that, Taeyong wasn’t completely alone. Against all odds, he had made a friend, a friend he might be able to keep. Against the people saying he looked closed off and unreachable. He’d have to ask Yuta later which of these lucky stars he had to thank for this fucking miracle. Because Kun was exactly what he had hoped for.

“Good,” he said, and Taeyong wanted to fucking drink his smile up, whatever that meant. “I’m done here. You’re welcome to knock at my door anytime. I’ll be happy to answer,” he added, ever the considerate gentleman. He then took the bucket full of supplies and his broom, walking toward the door, Taeyong’s eyes trailing on him. How come time had gone by so quickly now, when all his life had remained stuck in slow motion? “Until then, good night, Taeyong.”

How long had it been since anyone had told him such comforting words? It felt so good. So great. Like he was on top of the fucking world. “Oh, and Kun,” Taeyong called, the man turning to look at him one last time. “If you see Taeil around, tell him to kiss my ass.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> taeil is the fucking Best  
> and mr hansol... hello?? mini plot twist much??
> 
> this is probably one of my favourite chapters, not just because kun is my bias lol (love that sexy man who invented the song regular all by himself and birthed me with his rap). dedicated to all of us lonely wrecks in search of emotional connection, lets not be afraid to take the first step or accept the chances we're given!!
> 
> (if you click on taeyong's picture on [this website](https://neocityuniverse.carrd.co) you'll get a song that fits his character pretty well. we love an interactive story)


	7. DONGHYUCK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there is nothing donghyuck wouldn’t do for his best friend in the whole world.

**vii**. DONGHYUCK

 

Eighteen was a very small number, Donghyuck grew to learn. Sure, it wasn’t the smallest, but when Mark brought in the hundreds and the thousands, eighteen became minuscule, ridiculously microscopic, insignificant to lengths never once imagined. Donghyuck had never had to count this high, before Mark. Unlearning this truth would change his life.

They were eleven when Mark came in the picture, upping the city’s population to twelve. The foreigner was younger than Johnny, and thankfully, much less boring and adult-like. It wouldn’t be hard to befriend Mark, in a city of twelve, but at the time, Donghyuck didn’t know; because then, twelve was the biggest number he could think of, or had to think of. How could he befriend the newcomer, in a city this huge, this crowded?

“Where is everybody?” Donghyuck remembered Mark say, one of the first sentences he had dared speak since the initial shock of entering Neo. He had been crying all day, rain pouring as they were huddled in City Hall, trying to calm him down. It would take a couple days before getting him to open up, and for Donghyuck’s world to shatter, every pre-existing concept broken down to pieces by a boy from another city.

Mark told him about numbers. He taught him how to play with the snow, shapes he had never seen, coldness on his skin he had never felt. He gave Donghyuck words beyond imagination, describing things that didn’t exist, but when Mark spoke of them, Donghyuck wished they were real. Mark opened Donghyuck’s mind to infinite possibilities as they grew up, made him want more than thoughts, but realities. Then, Neo noticed.

Twelve, then seventeen, sixteen, and eighteen, were very small numbers. Everyone knew everyone. People sought friendship amongst the small number, sought love, hate, connexion however way could be found. In these friendships they gossiped; in love they shared; with hate, they fought; and all those connexions, they would either make or break Neo and the people in it.

Neo must have known how Donghyuck saw infinity inside Mark, and decided to take him away, tame the younger’s mind running frantic with ideas that shouldn’t see the day. Neo, the Council, whichever truly ruled over them all, gave Mark the worst punishment in existence: to work in a workless land, to work everywhere, as far as possible from any source of enjoyment.

Away from Donghyuck, infinity ceased to appear in the real, visible in dreams only. Or sometimes, when Donghyuck was lucky, it appeared while waking up at night, a boy too tired to speak lying down next to him, failing to make the least noise possible. Pressed against his body, the two of them distanced from the world, Mark had never felt so far away.

“Why won’t you go to your own house, Mark?” Donghyuck spoke up, the boy next to him shifting to better put his arm around the other’s waist. Mark always woke him up, as much as he tried not to. Donghyuck didn’t mind; what bothered him was Mark choosing this bed over his own. Donghyuck over self-care. “You need good sleep, not me kicking you every two minutes. Your words.”

Mark brought him closer, a hand over his waist, eyes shut tight. “You’re warm,” he mumbled, his tired mouth losing strength over the words. Mark’s skin had always been cold, icy fingertips tickling his skin, fresh wind blowing from a window on a hot summer day. Donghyuck would suffocate without it.

“You’re dumb,” he retorted, putting his hand over Mark’s around him and closing his eyes. Oh, how he had missed him today. More than yesterday, less than tomorrow.

“I know.”

In the click of Neo’s finger, they went from hour-long conversations about nothing and everything to sentences long forgotten by the night, and sometimes, themselves, the sleepy daze a distant memory. A dream evaporating within minutes of being awake. Some mornings, Donghyuck wouldn’t be able to tell Mark had even come to his place, if not for the bowl in the sink. Trinkets of reality from the boy of his dreams.

Donghyuck tried his best to keep going. He had other friends he could spend time with. He had the Council to bore him to the point his mind wasn’t able to think of anything but its awfulness. Distractions came easy, and he had Renjun, Jeno and Jaemin to thank for that. He was young, he was free, he could do anything he wanted. But how to go back into the world, when you’ve touched the whole universe?

And Donghyuck wasn’t stupid. He could see this responsibility take a toll on Mark, much bigger than his own boredom from an ordinary life. Mark woke up early and went to sleep late; he spent his days alone, working for other people; he was tasked to learn beyond his age, if he wanted the job done correctly; he had to grow up, forget about his youth, if he wanted to keep going without despair washing over him. Mark wasn’t young, wasn’t free, and he couldn’t do anything for himself. Not even sleep in his own bed.

From the moment Mark had stepped foot inside Neo, they had been helping each other. Donghyuck took care of Mark when the boy forgot about himself, while Mark stepped up as his elder to protect him. The job hadn’t changed that either; Donghyuck left his door unlocked in case Mark wanted to get in, and Mark went by Donghyuck’s place after his tasks because he knew the younger missed him. Neo had tried, but no storm could break their bond.

Still, Donghyuck felt bad. He knew he shouldn’t, as Mark had repeatedly told him, but it was strong, this feeling. Watching your best friend give his all without getting anything back, his will taken from him along with part of his sanity, it didn’t sit well with Donghyuck. It made him angry, more than anything, but the worst was Mark going along with it, claiming he could handle the weight. Like he wasn’t a person allowed to have flaws or give up. Like he hadn’t entered Neo crying like the rest of them, like he was a boy made of steel, incapable of breaking down.

That wasn’t Mark. Donghyuck knew him better than anyone, and he knew he wasn’t a superhero. That’s what he liked about him; he wasn’t special, just real. Extraordinarily ordinary. Something he also knew was that Mark deserved some help, and even if he would never ask, Donghyuck would give him all he needed.

“I want to go with you, tomorrow,” he whispered into the dead of night, his fingers interlacing with Mark’s on his waist.

Mark hadn’t fallen asleep yet, which was both a tragedy and a relief – he needed sleep, not to listen to Donghyuck’s sleep induced rambles, but at the same time, the boy wanted to let him know, and there would never be another time. “Go where?” Mark asked, followed by a stretched out yawn proving Donghyuck’s point: he had to take a break.

“With you,” Donghyuck replied, turning his head to face Mark, to show how serious he was. When it came to Mark, he took things at heart. “Wherever you need to go, I’ll follow.”

Mark pursed his lips, his answer clear already. “Hyuck. You don’t have to,” he protested, as expected. It made Donghyuck crack a smile, how well he knew Mark. Followed by an eye roll, because that was such a Mark thing to say, and it might have been endearing to see him care for Donghyuck, but his stubbornness cancelled out the effect.

“I want to,” Donghyuck pouted, blinking his big puppy eyes at Mark. The latter put his free hand over his eyes, avoiding the attack. _Please_. As if Donghyuck couldn’t use any of the remaining four senses to trick him. He got closer, his mouth hovering over Mark’s ear. “Please wake me up tomorrow morning,” he whispered in the most inconspicuous, innocent, whiny voice he could muster. _I want to be with you_ , he almost added.

Mark groaned, peeking at him through the gaps between his fingers. He was so cute, with the moonlight reflected in his eyes, soft shadows tracing his strong cheekbones in the most delicate way. Galaxies in his eyes, just a little out of reach. And a smile that could make or break the younger’s heart a thousand times. “Donghyuck-ah—”

“Please, Mark,” he said, not a trace of playfulness left in his words. Donghyuck was known to play around, say stuff he would immediately deny or laugh about, but this time wasn’t like those other ones. This was Mark’s happiness they were talking about, and Donghyuck would never joke about that. Mark was serious matter, more he would ever know.

The older sighed, tightening his hold on Donghyuck’s waist. Mark had always had a soft spot for the younger, and as he muttered his final answer, Donghyuck knew he had won. “We’ll see.”

  
  


“Tell me why we’re here again?” Donghyuck complained, elbows rested over the counter, his head between his hands. They had arrived to the burger joint next to the mall an hour ago, and no one had come get fries yet. And no one would, because Donghyuck knew for a fact the grocery store’s rotisserie had way better ones, and anyone would be dumb not to go there as a first choice.

“Because you’re an idiot who shouldn’t be taking life decisions in the middle of the night,” Mark deadpanned, inspecting the diner’s stools for the fourth time. A pointless task, since no one ever came in, which would therefore mean there was nothing to clean up. “You should go, if you’re going to be whining all day. I don’t need that energy around,” he added, his tone leaving no place for pleasantries.

Donghyuck frowned at the boy. “It’s not whining, it’s asking,” he retorted, scoffing. Was Mark in a mood? Donghyuck complained about everything, all the time, and Mark always listened with care and insight. How come it was a problem, today of all days? “I just don’t see the point in being here at this time. Barely anyone comes to the mall anyway, even less so in the morning,” he reasoned.

Mark sighed, putting down the stool he was examining and looking at his friend. “There’ll be someone,” he claimed, a tight-lipped smile thrown his friend’s way. “Don’t worry, Donghyuck.”

He rolled his eyes. Mark’s tone didn’t sound amicable at all, and Donghyuck was starting to worry, for all the wrong reasons. “I’m the furthest from worried, _Mark Lee_ ,” he lied, mocking the way he used the boy’s complete surname instead of their usual nicknames.

Then again, Mark _was_ a little right. He didn’t need negative thoughts around him, the circumstances of his work already bleak enough, and maybe Donghyuck would have to swallow his pride and let Mark be. He crossed his arms over his chest before conceding, getting rid of the growing annoyance in him. “So you say there’ll be someone. How do you know?”

Mark blinked, as if the question was as much of a mystery to him as it was for Donghyuck. “I just… do,” he said, looking away in search for an answer. One eyebrow raised, scratching the back of his neck, the proper curious Mark way. It seemed he had never thought of it much before Donghyuck asked, and was now put on the spot, scrambling to put out a relatively correct answer. “I know it. I’m not sure how. But I do.”

“Maybe magic? Like a fairy?” He suggested, reminiscing a conversation he had had not so long ago. Magic, like some others in Neo who didn’t know how or why or sometimes, what. Those special people no one dared touch, their minds home to wonders away from the possible. A mind like Mark. “Renjun told me about them.”

The remark stirred a chuckle out of the older. At first genuine, then turning dry, heavy. To Donghyuck, almost frightening; this was unlike the boy he had met with realities rolling off his tongue. “Sure, yeah. I’m the Tinker Bell of Neo City. Except sweeping around and shit. Great.”

He would’ve asked for clarification, had Mark’s words not been so sharp. Maybe Donghyuck should have stayed home, after all. He just wanted to hang out with his best friend, not the passive-aggressive version of him. Laugh with him for all the days they couldn’t. Was he always like this when he had to work, unpleasant and full of bite? Or was today a poisoned apple picked especially for Donghyuck?

“Sorry,” Mark sighed, breaking the silence he had created. He was looking at his feet now, in deep observation of the dirt on his shoes. “Shouldn’t complain,” he added, his voice empty of the tension it held earlier. It wasn’t an apology to Donghyuck, but a reprimand towards himself; either way, the younger boy would forgive.

Not now, though. Mark being an asshole was contrary to his nature, but since he was being the complete opposite of understanding, Donghyuck had no choice but force him deeper into it. “Why not? You should. I’ve been here like thirty seconds and I can find at least forty reasons to complain. One: your face.”

Mark groaned at these words, staring straight at him, his jaw clenched. “Look, Donghyuck, I agreed to let you come—”

“Wow, thanks again for letting me use my free will,” Donghyuck snickered, cutting him off with no shame. Boy deserved it, for being so pissy and condescending; he had brought this on himself. “So generous of you, Mark.”

“—but I will make you leave if necessary,” he finished, eyes piercing through Donghyuck’s with an intensity rarely shown before. Yes, Donghyuck was known also to have the power to annoy the shit out of every living person within close radius, but it had never seemed to affect Mark as much as it did now, to make him react in such a negative way, his stare full of unsaid words Donghyuck didn’t want to hear.

And so Donghyuck scoffed. Maybe he should have stopped with the provoking, but it had stopped being about that. It wasn’t about Mark anymore, but rather protecting his own feelings; he would be lying if he said Mark’s demand hadn’t hurt him a little. “Good luck with that,” he snickered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why?” Mark stepped forward, brows furrowed, hands turning to fists as Donghyuck took a step back in response, letting his arms fall to his sides. The power of words was a frightening one; under its spell, the line between good and bad couldn’t be seen until you had already crossed to the other side. This time, Donghyuck had gone too far. “Why would you say that? Am I just a helpless little working boy to you? Do you feel bad for me? When you see me, do you think ‘ _oh, he wasn’t strong enough to say no_ ’?”

It rendered him speechless, these accusations. Of course Donghyuck felt bad. Hadn’t stopped feeling that way since the second Mark’s fate had been sealed. But never, _ever_ , did he think Mark was weak for accepting to take on this role when he had no choice in the matter. “Is that why you’re here?” He continued, anger about his whole situation coming out in flames. “Because you feel bad, like the rest of them, watching me with pity in their eyes while they do nothing to help?”

In this moment, a glimpse, Donghyuck wished he had never met Mark. What would his life have been like, without him? He wouldn’t be feeling so hurt right now. He wouldn’t have sacrificed a day of his life into showing up at an empty burger joint. But he wouldn’t have met the person he was most excited to see everyday. He wouldn’t have lived those happy moments together, the time they tried to build a treehouse, the day they explored the flower fields, those nights by the fireplace exchanging worries. Without Mark in his life, he wouldn’t have felt hurt, but rather, miserable. A puzzle left undone, the missing piece never to be found.

For all the worth Mark had brought into his life, even if it wasn’t mutual, Donghyuck wouldn’t stop answering his call. “You’re my best friend. That’s who you are to me. Always been,” he said, eyes roaming around the room, settling anywhere but on his friend. If Mark’s call told him to hang up, he’d listen to those words as well. “But if I’m just another… citizen to you, I’ll gladly go.”

Donghyuck sighed, untying his apron from the back, a heavy feeling settling on his chest. As he turned around to leave, reluctant, a hand grabbed his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “Hyuck— No, don’t.” He ignored Mark’s words and tried stepping closer to the door, but Mark didn’t let go. “Don’t leave. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry,” Mark urged. Donghyuck stopped tugging his hand away. “Please.”

Mark’s voice had become quieter, his breathing ragged, his hold softer. Donghyuck finally met his begging eyes, all wide and glossy, his expression resembling one of a child being scolded. He had gone from scary to fearful, with just the click of Donghyuck’s heels walking away. “Mark,” Donghyuck muttered, afraid the boy would break if he raised his voice any higher. “Are you crying?”

The older boy gulped and shook his head, the tear rolling down his cheek saying otherwise. Donghyuck hadn’t seen him cry since the day he had arrived, a lifetime ago. Never again, until today. “I didn’t mean to say that, I’m just—” A sob escaped his mouth, which he covered up with his hand. He wiped a tear with his sleeve, and Donghyuck had never felt so heartbroken. “I— You’re my best friend too.”

Donghyuck couldn’t help it anymore; he walked up to Mark and wrapped his arms around his friend, holding him tight. “Mark, it’s okay. I know,” he whispered, running a hand up and down the older’s back as Mark’s head found its resting place over his shoulder. A tear fell onto Donghyuck’s shirt, followed by another.

“I’m so sorry. I am.”

Mark wasn’t a crier. Mark was the toughest guy around. Mark wouldn’t just start crying after fighting with a friend – and this was merely a petty argument. Mark would always apologise soon after, whether he was in the right or wrong, but no tears would be involved. This wasn’t about Donghyuck anymore. These tears were for something else, something far more complex, something only Donghyuck had the power to unlock; these tears were the key to Mark’s mysteries, ones he didn’t even know existed.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it,” Donghyuck asked, careful not to make him any more uncomfortable than he was. He felt a nod over his shoulder, and brought the boy even closer. This was so fucking unfair. Whoever, whatever was making Mark feel that way, Donghyuck wouldn’t hesitate to destroy.

“So many things, Hyuck,” he faltered. Mark had never felt so small in his arms. The boy, who had always maintained a strong presence, was crumbling under his facade, Donghyuck unsure how to piece him back together. “Nothing’s right. Hasn’t been for a long time.”

 _How long, Mark? How long have you been feeling this way? How long have you not told me about your pain?_ “Talk to me,” Donghyuck urged. “Tell me everything. I’m here, now. I’m listening.” _For all those times you might have needed me, and I wasn’t aware_.

Mark exhaled, then broke the embrace. Donghyuck’s arms felt empty without him between them. As for Mark, he wiped his strained cheeks, eyes meeting Donghyuck’s once again. This time, delicate. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone,” he demanded. “Anyone at all.”

Odd. “I won’t, I promise,” Donghyuck agreed, although perplexed. “Is it that bad?” How could the truth be worse than the ridiculous scenarios he had imagined all this time? What was so bad it made Mark scared to even say a word of it to another person?

Mark shrugged, a sad snicker left in the air. “It’s not good,” he answered, Donghyuck’s worries growing by the minute. Had his friend not looked so miserable, he would’ve scolded him for being so secretive all this time. For leaving Donghyuck in the dark, unaware of his demons. He would let it pass, for now, as his friend took a deep breath, ready to dive in.

“It’s always been bad, having to work,” Mark started, his voice regaining a little strength. “You know, couldn’t hang out with you guys. Made you sad, and as much as I wanted to, it wasn’t something I could fix. I’d rather repair your smile than somebody’s toaster,” he chuckled, shaking his head. Donghyuck’s cheeks would have turned brick red, under lighter circumstances. “Would have spared me a couple shocks, too.”

Hold up. What now? “You got hurt,” Donghyuck blurted out, astonished. The Council’s verbal contract had never established the possibility of physical pain. This was a complete game-changer; either Mark had been overworking himself and taking on jobs he didn’t have to, or, some Council members had been aware of the possible consequences this whole time, and hadn’t said anything. Donghyuck didn’t know which option was more frightening, but he did know he would’ve fought harder to stop this from happening, had he known about those hidden details in the first place. “You never told me.”

Mark leaned on the counter, looking out the window. Today was an awfully sunny day, stark irony compared to the atmosphere inside the diner. “I didn’t tell you about a lot of things, Hyuck,” he said, his eyes taking in the colours of a world so close, yet always so distant. Mark had pretty eyes, Donghyuck thought, day or night. “That’s not the worst part, though,” he sighed, picking at the skin around his nails. “Jaemin—”

He choked on this one word, wiping his eyes before they could betray him again. Another deep sigh escaped his lips, shaky, full of unspoken regret. “Hey, hey, take your time,” Donghyuck whispered, putting his hand over Mark’s shoulder. This wasn’t fair. Mark deserved so much better, it was an abomination he had to feel this way, and fuck, Donghyuck wanted to cry too. “There’s no rush. It’s just me.”

Empathy was a curse, Donghyuck had grown to learn. It kept Mark under its spell, the whole world on his shoulders. Everything he did, the world would see, hear, wonder, criticise. Everything the world did, Mark had to know, act accordingly, help out. At all times surrounded by the need to think of others, until he lost his sense of self, his need to just _be_. The world wouldn’t remind him to sleep, to eat, to laugh, to stop; it wouldn’t be profitable, empathetic. The world was cruel, but Donghyuck wasn’t from his world. And only he could help bring Mark back to himself.

“Donghyuck,” he called, after a minute to recompose himself. Mark looked over for a second, then averted his gaze again, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You might not like what you hear, but I need you to trust me. I really, really, need you to believe me,” he demanded with a vulnerability unheard before. Donghyuck was still unsure what was so bad about this story Mark had to keep to himself for so long, but if the oldest would keep trailing this any longer, he would explode. “Can you do that, no matter what I say?”

It was Donghyuck’s turn to sigh. “I know you, Mark Lee. And you’re not a liar,” he vouched. “You omit the truth at times, forget to speak up for yourself, pretend not to listen when I tell you to go to sleep, can be a real dick when you’re pissed, but you don’t lie. So I’ll believe you.”

Mark put his hand over Donghyuck’s, giving it a light squeeze. This was it; the point of no return. For both of them. “I tried,” he frowned. “Every day, every night, I tried. I thought it would be enough. I thought luck would end by our side. This place works in peculiar ways, you know.” He was right about that; Neo was unpredictable. Donghyuck too had witnessed this magic, although it wasn’t the kind to act out of kindness. “None of these illusions mattered, though, once he stopped talking. Not a single one.” Mark’s breath turned unsteady. Donghyuck stepped closer. “It all amounted to nothing, in the end. I had done nothing right to save him.”

Of course, Mark wouldn’t use actual words to describe actual events. No, he’d walk around the subject, his words scraping the surface, leaving Donghyuck dumbfounded trying to figure out the hidden meanings, making _him_ say it out instead. What could the boy be so terrified of saying? And what made him think Donghyuck wouldn’t be just as scared? Because from what he had understood… “Mark, I… I’m not sure I understand,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

Mark looked over his shoulder, his eyes glossy, his lips trembling. Donghyuck’s grip tightened. “Do you know how hopeless the world seems, once you’ve seen a dead body?” He said. A shaky breath followed. “A dead friend?”

Silence fell over the room, the whole world around them muted out, white noise inside the younger’s ears. Donghyuck shook his head. This couldn’t be. “Mark, what are you saying?”

He gulped, shaking Donghyuck’s hand off his shoulder. “I ran off. I couldn’t bear it. Everything slowed down. My hands were sweating. I fell, hit my head on the wall. I couldn’t shake the image away. His eyes were still open,” he confessed, voice barely higher than a whisper. It felt painful to remember. It was atrocious to hear. “He died because of me, Donghyuck. And I’m the only person responsible for it.”

Mark had asked for Donghyuck’s trust, but how could this be real? He refused for it to be. “Jaemin… Jaemin isn’t dead, Mark,” he reasoned, as careful as ever. Donghyuck didn’t want to think of Mark as delusional, but if he didn’t, he’d have to face a truth darker than anything he could have imagined.

“He was, Hyuck. I put my hand right over his heart. Nothing. Just cold.” Mark looked down. He flicked a crumb off the counter. His hand turned to a fist, knuckles white, then relaxed. “Jaemin was dead.”

Neo worked in strange ways, Mark had made him notice. It didn’t seem strange to someone who had grown up with it, but to a foreigner, taking the moon out of the sky was no less than a slap in the face. And this place just kept giving nonsensical realities, mindfucks of the highest degree to anyone who tried to understand it. Neo worked differently in a lot of aspects. But when it came to death, Neo was as ruthless as the rest of the universe. What was once alive wouldn’t, and couldn’t, come back.

Jaemin used to be dead.

“How?” Donghyuck asked. A dumb, pointless question, but the necessity outweighed the logic. Like most dumb decisions were. Begging Mark to take him to work. Holding Mark’s hand in the middle of a fight. Hoping his sleep would be disrupted by Mark settling next to him. Dumb needs, like hearing an answer to a question that shouldn’t exist.

“I don’t have that kind of answer. But… some might,” Mark disclosed, piquing Donghyuck’s curiosity. Someone else knew? “The ending is the strangest part, if you can even believe. For a long time, I wondered if I had hallucinated it. It felt real, though. Too real.” Mark frowned, still unsure of the veracity of his memories. The whole ordeal was nightmarish enough; it wasn’t like it could get that much worse, Donghyuck thought.

Mark blinked, still looking away from Donghyuck, staring at the tree swaying outside, entranced by the light wind. “Johnny got in the room. He ran inside full speed. And, yeah, I don’t know when Jisung got there, but they both left the room after… a few minutes? I can’t tell,” he rambled,  confusion in his traits. That was indeed an unlikely duo, and Donghyuck found himself just as puzzled. “Then, a groan came from behind the door,” he continued. “It was Jaemin. Like none of it had happened, he had woken up.”

Johnny and Jisung. The least credible duo in Neo. Mark was either the dumbest human alive, using the worst combination of people to pull off his lie when any two other people would have worked better, or he was telling the truth, nothing but the truth, as crazy as it was. And Donghyuck knew Mark, and Mark wasn’t an idiot. Which meant, from beginning to end, all the things he had said were true. Jaemin had died.

“I can barely look at him anymore, you know,” he admitted, finally locking eyes with Donghyuck. They were filled with regret that shouldn’t have been there in the first place; it wasn’t his fault. It had never been. “I don’t know who he is, if he’s still the same Jaemin. It makes me feel like shit, to think this way about a friend. And I don’t know what to do.”

Donghyuck grabbed Mark’s hand, lacing their fingers together. The pain Mark felt was one of a kind; Donghyuck didn’t know how to react, how to comfort him. The right words were hard to find, but at least, he knew how to love. And how to give it to those who mattered.

“You think they did something? Johnny and Jisung?” Donghyuck shifted the subject, preferring to wrack his brain with theories rather than think of the hell Jaemin must have been through, and the possible sadness threatening to consume him if he thought of it a second more. Anyways, the duo was bothering him, and surely Mark as well. What were they doing there? How did they get there so fast? Johnny, he could understand, as he knew everyone’s whereabouts at all times. But little Jisung? And what did they do, exactly? Who would have that kind of power?

“I’m not sure I want to know,” Mark replied, shrugging. Looking outside again, he exhaled the tension he had kept inside, his mind relieved of a burden too big to be carried alone. But Donghyuck was here now, inside the lonely diner, holding hands with his best friend like the world as they knew it hadn’t just ended for both of them. “Please, don’t tell a word of it,” Mark added after a moment of silence. “Especially not to Jeno. He can’t know, ever.”

Telling Lee Jeno his fucking soulmate had died? As if Donghyuck had a death wish. “I won’t. A promise is a promise.”

Mark tightened his grip on Donghyuck’s hand, throwing his way a shy smile, the first one in a long time. “So… you believe me?” He asked, hope twirling in his words, so fragile and beautiful at the same time, traces of the usual rhythm it held slowly coming back to him. Donghyuck could listen to Mark talking for the rest of his life and never get bored a second.

“I wish you were lying, but yeah, I do,” Donghyuck confirmed, Mark’s smile growing a little bigger at his words. He was cute when he smiled. He was cute all the time.

“Hyuck,” Mark said again, biting down on his bottom lip, a trait Donghyuck recognised as worry. “Can you promise one last thing?”

“Now you’re pushing it, Mark Lee.”

Mark laughed. Donghyuck smiled; this was the Mark he knew and loved a little too much. Then, the older took a deep breath, brows furrowed. “Do you remember, the thing you told me the other day? About leaving,” Mark precised, his expression turning back to seriousness, a hint of concern in his eyes.

Donghyuck felt his throat tighten. He was half asleep when he had told Mark about his search of a possible exit; he didn’t think the boy had been listening. _One day, I’ll get out of here_ , he had whispered, brushing Mark’s hair off his eyes as he slept, or, well, pretended to. _I’ll get you out of here. I’ll get us both out of here_. Mark really needed a good night’s sleep. “If you ever find the way out,” he murmured, as if unsure he’d be turned down, “will you come get me?”

Donghyuck scoffed, hitting his arm. Had he not heard the last part of his semi confession, falling asleep in the middle of it, or did Mark really think that low of him, believing he wouldn’t follow his word? Mark could be so stupid at times. He was lucky Donghyuck liked him so much. “I would never even think about leaving without you, dumbass.”

  
  


PART 2 } { HEADWIND

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'the dreamies take the L', part 25 of 2000
> 
> uh oh we're entering part 2... are you starting to smell this incoming plot? hmmm. heavenly


	8. JUNGWOO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jungwoo always chose kindness, but it won’t help clean the mess he’s made.

**viii**. JUNGWOO

 

The world wasn’t kind. Taking Taeyong’s happiness away wasn’t kind. Making Jaemin suffer at the hands of an unknown monster wasn’t kind. The fire burning down Renjun’s playground wasn’t kind. Unrequited love. Responsibilities forced upon. Burdens of the past. A wide cage with no exits. Bitter tears of the hopeless. All unkind things the world had thrown at them with no shame, and certainly no pity.

Maybe this was why Jungwoo felt so different than the others; because he disobeyed the world’s unwritten laws. Because he chose to be kind, in a world where disaster, intolerance, sadness reigned. Rebel with a cause; to heal the wounds left from the world’s unbearable pain, even just a little.

Jungwoo had always been different, felt different. He couldn’t pinpoint why, at first, but the impression had stuck with him for the longest he could remember. Was it his age? Neither old, nor young. His ability to heal the mind of the tormented, appease worries with a single touch? Most probably, but not exclusive. Whatever the answer, something was off, always had been. The day he felt the first heartbreak, that’s when he understood. Not _his_ first, but _the_ first.

The world wasn’t kind, but the people in it weren’t either. The individual leaving the city and its people hadn’t thought of the consequences of his actions. The citizens looking at a dying child wishing on all their lucky stars his suffering would end, whether in a good or bad way, weren’t helping. The grown man tearing down another kid’s world leaf by leaf, tree by tree, was mean, period. The world wasn’t kind, but its people could be worse.

Jungwoo refused to be like that; the cause of someone’s misery. The reason for someone else’s anger, anguish, tears or sadness, all those feelings leaving a bitter taste in one’s mouth, lingering for too long, weighing down their spirits. If wanting to be a good person made him an outsider, the odd one out, then so be it. He’d still go down with a smile on his face, knowing he had done what was right.

It wasn’t so bad, being the different one around town. People still showed their brightest smiles when he passed by, appreciated by all. He was happy with his choices – there was no other option anyway, but it felt right nevertheless. He still experienced life like everyone else. Sure, most of his days were spent alone, never getting attached to anyone in fear of pulling the wrong moves and have his heartfelt kindness backfire on accident. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t getting the best of it.

The ability made it harder to socialise, anyway. Being aware of others’ distress at all times could get tiring, without mention the splitting headaches and the incessant buzz in his ears. He was better off alone, rather than having to run away everytime someone close was diving into negative emotions. He couldn’t always heal them to save himself; the act of changing a mind was even more exhausting than spending his days hearing other’s darkest thoughts.

This was why he liked Ten the most; the boy was never anxious, never angry, never sad – not around him, anyway. He always brought joyous and headache-free afternoons to Jungwoo, breaking the routine with a special kind of happiness he cherished most. Ten was a great friend, planning out surprise hang-outs with care; a good listener, never complaining about Jungwoo’s incessant rants on the citizens’ state of mind, as well as his own, and giving out thoughtful advice afterwards; and strangely, an unusual matchmaker. Because without Ten pushing him forward, he would have never let Yukhei enter his life.

It was doomed from the start. The day Yukhei entered Neo, Jungwoo got one of his worse headaches since the Taeyong episode – which was code for really, really bad. The raw energy coming from this boy was full of unparalleled anger, regret, and upon further inspection, a hint of fear. Jungwoo knew, even if he wanted to help, that the boy would hurt more than heal. And there was no way he was getting involved with this actual walking mess of a human, no thank you.

“You would love him,” Ten kept repeating, grabbing both of Jungwoo’s hands in his own and tugging on his arms like an excited child. “He looks so good, you wouldn’t believe it. You’re missing out on some great eye candy, my friend.” But Ten didn’t stop, his speech getting more and more elaborate with each attempt, to Jungwoo’s dismay. “He actually reminds me of you. He keeps to himself a lot. Looks shy, but I’m sure he’s just not used to everyone. A bit like you, before we were friends. He doesn’t seem like a bad guy. He always looks mad, but I’m sure he’s sweet.”

“That’s great, Ten, and I’m sure I would like him too if he wasn’t drilling a hole inside my skull every second of the day,” Jungwoo tried to reason with him, pointing at his forehead for emphasis, a forced grin on his face begging his friend to knock it off. As if he could put a halt to Neo’s most stubborn individual and his unbelievable plans.

“You know what? I didn’t want to use this argument because I thought I could convince you otherwise, but here goes,” Ten said, amusingly threatening. He was only getting annoying at this point, and failing to appear scary. Ten was a softie hiding behind his teasing facade, and Jungwoo could see right through him. “If you actually got to know him, you could touch him. Get it? Headaches, gone, whatever’s weighting on his mind, gone, and my mission, a success.”

The very next day, Jungwoo met Yukhei. By coincidence or one of Ten’s elaborate tricks, he wasn’t sure – and didn’t want to know –, but he did know Yukhei’s smile was way more gorgeous than he could have imagined. Jungwoo smiled back, starstruck, taking in every single feature of the boy’s face. Yukhei’s eyes sparkled, he noticed. The headache lessened.

And Jungwoo, the one who wouldn’t let himself be close to anyone in fear of hurting them in the long run, the one who wanted nothing to do with others and their ever-so-present feelings, fell into the deepest, most dangerous waters of emotion: love.

  
  


} {

  
  


But the world wasn’t kind. No matter how kind Jungwoo tried to be, the world wouldn’t make an exception for him. If it hadn’t done anything to help Jaemin’s condition, no one in Neo could rely on miracles.

Nighttime had fallen ages ago when Yukhei finally decided to come home. Jungwoo was used to the boy going on long walks by himself at random times of the day, but he’d usually come back soon after Yuta put up the moon. Today had fallen off-routine, and through the months of knowing Yukhei, Jungwoo knew this couldn’t mean well. Last time something like this had happened, Yukhei didn’t show any sign of life for three days, and Jungwoo’s head was riddled with headaches from his own feelings of overwhelming worry.

 _Nothing dangerous will happen_ , Jungwoo reasoned. _He’s fine. It’s nothing. He’ll be here soon, and I’ll laugh at how stupid I sound_. This was Neo; nothing bad would happen here. Nothing ever happened. Well, at times. Most of the time. Nothing would happen today of all days, anyway. Right?

Jungwoo was sitting down at the dinner table, his hands spread out over the surface, focused on his nails – he couldn’t spiral, he had to think of something else, like the white patches in the middle of all this pink, the little skin pieces ripping off at the edges, or how his fourth finger on the left hand needed to be filed. _He’ll be back._

Loving Yukhei had never been easy. From days like these, to the perpetuous headaches, his pessimistic nature, the unpredictable tendency to shut himself out, every step of the way had been paved with obstacles growing larger every time. On better days, loving him felt easier than breathing. His smile when he was trying not to laugh at one of Jungwoo’s terrible jokes. His slender hands running through Jungwoo hair, the eldest lying on his lap, the wind singing its lullabies. The way he talked, an excited child who couldn’t help but share everything about his day, stumbling over his words, pausing to think, then starting again. His disastrous attempts at cooking, followed by the takeout boxes and apologies for the mess, while all Jungwoo could think about were his efforts, his determination into making him happy, making them whole.

The second he heard the doorknob turn, Jungwoo jumped to his feet, his heart pounding faster. Yukhei looked exhausted, a pained glance thrown Jungwoo’s way, hands hidden away in his coat pockets (a gift; Jungwoo thought the orange hues could brighten him up on gloomy days). He sighed, stepping inside, the door closing behind him, loud, the pounding echoing inside the house and Jungwoo’s head ominously.

He walked up to Yukhei and wrapped his arms around him, relieved of the ache chained to his heart. He was home, and Jungwoo had stressed over nothing yet again. He would laugh at how stupid he was if he weren’t angry at the younger boy for disappearing without warning. Jungwoo should have been used to it, by now, but it still felt the same every time.

“I was worried,” he managed to say, head buried in the crook of Yukhei’s neck. The younger’s arms hadn’t moved, kept on either side of his body. His frozen stance worried Jungwoo even more, the boy’s behaviour different from usual. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Yukhei answered dryly. He still hadn’t moved an inch, refusing to reciprocate the hug for some reason unknown. Jungwoo let go, a shrill ringing invading his ears, the sound too familiar to be mistaken. Shit.

“Yukhei. Are you sure?” The ever-present headache he carried with him wherever he went was getting worse, which could only mean one thing: Yukhei was lying, and the furthest from fine.

Yukhei walked past him, not sparing him another glance as he bumped into his shoulder. “I said I was fine, Jungwoo,” he repeated, his words sharper than knives. Something was definitely wrong, far more than what Jungwoo could have imagined. He couldn’t just ignore it, now, could he? He had sworn to be there when Yukhei would need him, and although he wasn’t saying it, the elder could hear it pounding against his cranium.

Jungwoo stretched out his hand towards the younger’s shoulder in an attempt to make Yukhei look back, look him in the eye and say something else, anything else. “Hey, Yukhei—”

“Don’t touch me,” he snapped, what could only be described as disgust sketched across his features as he darted away from Jungwoo. He kept going further away, his pace quickening, until he reached the guest bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him. Jungwoo could feel his heart dropping as he heard the lock turn, the younger boy denying his help in the loudest way possible.

Maybe this was just an outburst. He used to have those a lot in the past; this wasn’t so out of the blue, out of character. Sure, he had learned to control his anger with time, and he was happy with his efforts, but people fell back into old habits all the time. Maybe this had nothing to do with him, and Yukhei was lashing out at the closest person within reach. Yeah.

Jungwoo could have left him alone, let him wallow in his own thoughts and wake him up gently the following morning, when he would feel better. But this felt different, recalling the glimpse of sadness Jungwoo had catched in his eye as he got in the house. This needed immediate attention, and if it wasn’t what Yukhei wanted, well, _screw it_ , because Jungwoo needed it. He wouldn’t sit back and wait for irreparable damage when his lover was in the other room messing with both their heads.

“Yukhei,” he urged, knocking on the door like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. “What’s wrong? Talk to me. Please,” he added, getting desperate. “Please, baby.”

Jungwoo had never been so happy to hear the sound of a door unlocking, finally granted back access to the boy. It hadn’t been so hard to change his mind, after all; maybe Yukhei wasn’t mad, just unnerved. It still felt difficult sometimes to read his feelings, and this might have been the case yet again. Jungwoo went for the doorknob, but it slipped past him as Yukhei opened the door first, a deepening frown carved on his face.

“Why would you say that?” He growled, looking down on Jungwoo with an unreadable expression in his eyes. “Why would you call me that?” He let go of the door, instead taking a step back and pacing in the guest room. This wasn’t the demeanor of a happy man, far from it. Jungwoo was growing scared, now. “How far will you fucking go?”

Jungwoo knew Yukhei swore. A lot. Almost never with him; if he slipped one into their conversations by mistake, he would apologise almost instantly. Jungwoo didn’t mind; the boy was free to express himself however he wanted. But swearing _at_ him? Yukhei had never resorted to that before. Jungwoo would have given him the benefit of the doubt, had he looked back and apologised. But he kept pacing, and didn’t take it back the words that had left his mouth. This time, he meant it.

This time, the problem wasn’t Neo, the problem wasn’t the citizens; the problem was Jungwoo, and Jungwoo only.

His headache worsened. “I— I thought— I don’t know what’s going on, Yukhei.”

Yukhei sighed, running a hand through his hair, walking around the room without ever stopping. “What’s up is that I’m done with your bullshit, Jungwoo. I won’t keep going with this.” He stopped in his tracks, his back facing Jungwoo, hands turned to fists. Another sigh, full of sorrow. What bullshit, exactly? And what was there to be ‘done’ about? Did he mean… their relationship? “I know why you’re here. And it’s not for me.”

How could his world have gone so terribly wrong in such a short span? Why did it feel like his body was breaking into a thousand pieces? He had never been this way before. He had felt it from other people experiencing it, but never had it happened to him. And it hurt much more than what his mind had made it out to be. Jungwoo frowned. “What do you mean, Yukhei? I love you, of course I’m here for you—”

“No, you’re not!” He shouted, turning around to face him. Jungwoo’s body froze, unable to think. It seemed too surreal to process. How could Yukhei assume such a thing, when Jungwoo’s heart screamed the opposite? What the hell was even happening in front of his eyes? “You don’t. That’s what you want me to think. It doesn’t make it the truth.”

If only Jungwoo could read thoughts instead of feelings, he could get a clearer understanding of the situation. Did Yukhei not believe Jungwoo loved him? He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his cranium, boom, boom, a hammer cracking open his forehead. Jungwoo didn’t know if the cause was Yukhei’s rage piercing through him, or his own pain rendering him powerless. Both, probably. “Wong Yukhei, you’re an idiot if you think I don’t love—”

“Stop saying it! You don’t fucking mean it,” he cursed, both hands sliding down his face in exasperation. He pursed his lips before talking again, and Jungwoo wasn’t sure he wanted to hear anything more coming from his mouth. “This is just a ploy to get to me. I know it. And I’m done playing this game, your game, Johnny’s, whoever the fuck is involved. I’m done.”

Wait. _What_ , now? “What does Johnny have to do with this? With you?” This was getting out of hand, borderline ridiculous. How did he come up with all of this? Yukhei had always had a strong sense of paranoia, watching and taking note of everyone’s every more, but Jungwoo never thought it could get as far as believing his boyfriend had been conspiring against him all this time. “Yukhei, please, listen—”

“Do I need to draw it out, or will you stop acting like you don’t know?” He spat out, stepping closer to Jungwoo. He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head, then retreated back into the room. “I really was the stupid one,” he mumbled, more to himself than Jungwoo. “It took me so long to figure out. I can’t believe I let you fool me this long.”

 _How? What did I do, baby? Why are you pushing me away?_ Jungwoo stepped inside the room, careful not to startle him. He loved Yukhei, had loved him since the very first minute their eyes had met, and it was the only truth that mattered. Jungwoo always thought he had been obvious enough on how much he loved the boy, but perhaps it hadn’t come out in a way Yukhei understood to the core. If it were the case, then Jungwoo would say it again, and again, until all doubts were erased, and only the truth remained. “Yukhei…”

“I was always a threat, wasn’t I? With my need to run, unable to settle for anything,” He continued, ignoring the older’s attempt to reach out to him. “You noticed. Johnny noticed. Everyone noticed. I told you, even, but because this is fucking prison, you guys wouldn’t let me escape. So you all came up with an idea,” he said, then pointed his finger at Jungwoo.

Yukhei slowly blinked, the actions of someone wondering whether to risk it all, or save the bliss. For a split second, Jungwoo had hope love was still on their side, with this subtle indecision on his boyfriend’s part, proving he wasn’t ready to let go either. Then, Yukhei spoke up again, and the illusion died as quick as it was formed. “We’ll get the guy who can calm people with a touch. It would silence him, the boy with the loud mouth. They’ll settle in together, and little Yukhei will forget all about his plans. That way, he would never leave, and everyone would be happy,” he explained in detail, his tone more and more gritty with every sentence uttered. “Everyone except Yukhei.”

Jungwoo was sure of one thing in this world, and that was his love for Yukhei. But the latter believing Jungwoo would be able to do such a despicable act – take away someone’s freedom, his _lover_ ’s freedom – was a punch to the gut. Jungwoo had never betrayed Yukhei; he would have never tried. However, Yukhei’s accusation definitely felt like betrayal.

“Sound familiar?” Yukhei taunted, convinced he was in the right. Jungwoo wanted to cry. “Or do you want to keep pretending this didn’t happen?”

Jungwoo sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at a distance; now was not the time to show weakness. “You really think this of me?” He mumbled, afraid his voice would break any second. “That I’m a self absorbed monster who wouldn’t bat an eye at the prospect of manipulating someone else? Don’t you know me by now?” _Don’t you know I wouldn’t say ‘I love you’ unless I meant it? Don’t you know I would never kiss anyone the way I kiss you?_

“I believe this place tricks people into doing things they wouldn’t do,” Yukhei replied, walking towards the broken-hearted boy standing in the doorway. He didn’t seem as angry anymore, yet the ache in Jungwoo’s head screamed the exact opposite. “This is your only home, Jungwoo. What would you do to keep this place intact? Remind me again what happened, when the last guy left?”

So this was it. He believed Jungwoo’s loyalty to the city was stronger than the feelings he held for him. That for the sake of his city, he would pretend to love a stranger. So this was what true heartbreak felt like. “You’re the one who told me this story,” Yukhei recalled, head tilted to the side. “Tell it again. It’ll refresh your memory. Maybe then, you’ll remember what you refuse to admit.”

The one guy who left Neo, whose name had been forgotten by the collective memory: Ji Hansol. Taeyong’s partner in crime, Kun’s best friend, an older brother to the younger kids. Matter of fact, Jungwoo looked up to him too. Everyone liked him; he had a positive aura, which was comforting compared to the rest of Neo. None of them expected him to disappear.

To this day, no one knew what had happened. Had he died in the middle of the woods? Rather unlikely, considering Renjun would have found him by now, the boy running through the area all hours of the days. Had he, somehow, gone off grid? Or lost in the Gray Area? Unknown. But the question on everyone’s tongue: had he found the dreaded exit?

Whatever the answer, Neo wasn’t happy about it. The following weeks had been a shitstorm: everyone was on edge, trying to find the missing man; the weather went from pouring rain to suffocating heat in under an hour, multiple times a day (they couldn’t even change the days because of it; no one got any sleep); and a Jungwoo exclusive, Taeyong’s mere presence inside the city made his head feel like it was getting cracked open by a maniac. After the rain, the drought, the pain, only an angel could restore stability. His name was Ten.

It had been rough, but they had managed to go through it. No one dared speak of it anymore, the name falling into oblivion, and the world started turning again. Well, for everyone except Taeyong. The events had scarred him deeper than anyone; Jungwoo knew as much, the insides of his brain filled with the other’s sadness for weeks without end. _The_ first heartbreak, powerful enough to mess up Jungwoo’s abilities forever, empathy to pain increased into migraines.

But Yukhei had never even met the Hansol guy, hadn’t experienced the catastrophes of his absence. Why was this half-erased memory relevant to their case? Then, it clicked. The destruction, the chaos… “You think you could cause something like that?” Jungwoo asked, the puzzle pieces falling into place.

“I _know_ you think I could,” Yukhei answered, putting emphasis over the fact this wasn’t speculations, but rather a cold hard truth Jungwoo couldn’t demystify even if he tried. “Why wouldn’t anyone let me leave, then? Why have you been holding me back all this time?”

Nothing he could say would change Yukhei’s mind. Sometime ago, he had stopped trusting Jungwoo, and the elder, too caught up in his own world, hadn’t been bothered enough to notice how everything was falling apart. “Because…” _I would miss you too much_ , he wanted to say. But would he be dismissed again, his words claimed to be lies? Was there a point anymore to correcting his version, or had he lost Yukhei too long ago?

“Because you’re all scared it will happen again,” Yukhei completed for him. Another hit to the head. “Because this is your only home, and you would never let a stranger wreck it until there’s nothing left,” he continued. Jungwoo closed his eyes. “So you kill the inconvenient parts of the menace, to help yourself in the end.”

When he opened them again, he could see black spots infecting his vision, the headache growing to lengths he had never experienced. For a split second, he was afraid he would pass out from the rage the other spat at him. “Yukhei, this isn’t what you think it is,” he blurted, ignoring his previous realisation; it hurt to much to stay silent, even if his words would be distorted. He had to fight. He loved him too much to let him go this way.

Yukhei shook his head, brushing off Jungwoo’s objections. “I won’t fall for that anymore. I don’t want your excuses,” he said, looking him in the eye. He gulped loudly, followed by a sigh and the most heart wrenching sentence Jungwoo had ever heard. “I don’t want you close to me.”

Jungwoo stumbled backwards until he hit the closest wall, the ache making him lose balance, the air knocked out of his lungs. He couldn’t tell which was worse: the lava engulfing his brain, or the fact he had lost Yukhei for good.

“I get it, you know. To get back home, I would be ready to burn down another city. So I understand, why you did it,” Yukhei confessed, looking down at his feet. His eyes were shining, glossy rather than the usual joyful. Jungwoo couldn’t believe he was the one to take it away, to cause all this misery bumbling inside the younger. He had sworn to never be the reason for someone else’s pain, and he was paying the full price of his mistakes now. “But did you have to play me like this?” Yukhei looked back up, and the immeasurable sadness brought Jungwoo sliding down to the floor, back against the wall, head between his hands.

_I didn’t do anything! I love you, don’t you get that?_

Yukhei sniffed, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “Did you ever love me, Jungwoo? Did you, at one point, think you loved me?” A single tear fell down his cheek, hitting the ground next to Jungwoo’s shell of a man. He had broken him. Jungwoo had done this. He had broken them both. “Even just a little?”

 _I love you so bad, baby._ “Will you believe me if I say yes?” Jungwoo replied, looking up to the man he adored so much, even more so than the stars at night, the fields of blooming daisies, the sound of his laugh. _Please believe me, even if it’s for this only._

“No,” Yukhei answered. Definitive. Irreversible.

Jungwoo inhaled, his hands shaking, the ground collapsing under him. Everything he cherished was gone, just like this, with a simple ‘no’ he wished he had never heard.

He didn’t look up when he heard the sound of Yukhei’s feet stepping into the other room. He didn’t look up when the front door slammed shut, taking his first love away. He didn’t look up when the tears streamed down his face without ever stopping. He didn’t look up when he felt the weights thrown at his head, threatening to break his cranium for good, prompting him to scream into the night in hope it would stop. He didn’t look up when two hands shook him by the shoulders – although he knew this was Ten; it was always Ten – and tried to hold him together, whispering into his ear how they were going to move him soon, the pain would be over soon, _it’s okay Jungwoo, it’s okay, I’m here. Stay with me. Stay awake, okay..._

  
  


} {

  
  


“Tell me about where you’re from,” Jungwoo asked out of the blue, playing around with the petals of a daisy. _He loves me, he loves me not_. His head in Yukhei’s lap, the sun shining on them both, a breeze just the right temperature, half-finished strawberry cupcakes on the picnic blanket. A perfect afternoon, in many different ways. Perhaps even perfect enough to ask the younger to be his boyfriend, although they had been acting very much like a couple long enough already. A perfect day to make it official.

“I… don’t remember very well,” Yukhei admitted, scratching the back of his neck. The sun reflected in his hair gave him golden streaks, and Jungwoo raised his free hand to tuck back a piece behind his ear. How handsomely pretty. He couldn’t wait to call him his, for real this time. “I haven’t been there in ages.”

Today, there were no headaches. Yukhei was the happiest he had ever been; Jungwoo could tell. He wanted to tell Yukhei how proud he was for achieving this milestone, but that would have meant telling him about the headaches in the first place. Instead, he kept quiet, enjoying the peaceful day in its entirety. “How come?”

The younger shrugged, the ghost of a smile on his lips. He was so beautiful when he smiled like that. “I’ve been gone for a long time now. Wanted to get away,” he explained. “Other cities were okay, but they never felt like home. This one never did either, but it did come the closest to what I imagine home to be. So that’s why I want to go back. Feel it again with fresh eyes.”

 _I could be your home, you know_. “I’ll miss you, if you do,” Jungwoo whined, unable to keep his chuckle in. Yukhei pinched his cheek, joining in with the laughter. Jungwoo was in love, drunk on Yukhei’s voice. What a perfect day. “Can you take me with you?” He blurted out, lost in the beauty of Yukhei’s eyes, Yukhei’s everything, rendering him dizzy, warming up his insides with happy thoughts.

“Why, angel?” He tilted his head, looking genuinely surprised by the demand. He rested his hand atop Jungwoo’s chest, and the latter laced their fingers together, hoping Yukhei wouldn’t notice his heartbeat pounding faster at the pet name. He loved it when his boyfriend called him angel, even if it had started as a joke, Yukhei comparing his kind nature to one resembling those of some imaginary figures from the Not-Neo. Even if he couldn’t fully grasp the meaning, Jungwoo had grown fond of the nickname, and thankfully, so did Yukhei.

Getting back to his senses, Jungwoo shrugged. “I’d like to see where you’re from. Where you grew up. Why you love it so much,” he said. It would be nice; another way to understand the boy better, through the experiences he had shared in a previous life. “And stay with you a little longer, too.” Because he couldn’t get enough of him.

Yukhei smirked, giving their intertwined hands a light squeeze. “Okay, then. We could go there,” he suggested, his eyes shining at the thought already. Had Jungwoo known the way it would pay off to be this bold, he would have said so a lot earlier, if only to watch Yukhei’s eyes light up in happiness. “Together.”

Jungwoo liked the sound of that. Loved it, if he dared say the words. “Together.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn how do things keep getting worse for everyone :// wish i could help
> 
> (thank u for the comments and kudos lads, they're wonderful to receive xxxxxxx)


	9. JENO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> time keeps running by, and jeno can’t stop it.

**ix**. JENO

 

The day the butterflies came would change the city forever. If only Jeno had known, as he let the yellow winged bug strut in the palm of his hand with wonder drawn in his eyes. He had never seen a butterfly before, or any type of animal whatsoever. To see one felt out of this world, in a different way from Neo’s day-to-day magic. Later, he would find out the precise word he was looking for wasn’t magic per se, but rather, _curse_ ; after that day, when the butterflies had long flown away, Jeno wished he could forever erase the painful memory of the light touch grazing his fingers. If only he had known how much pain they were bringing with them into the city, into their lives.

Butterflies used to mean nothing. The word wasn’t even in Jeno’s dictionary; how could it, when no living creature other than them walked this piece of Earth? Animals, insects – all myths and stories thrown out of Renjun’s mouth when silence was begging to be filled. Jeno didn’t think they were true. Seeing the consequences their presence brought, they should have never been.

Overnight, a simple mention of the word became shivers down the spine, not a single soul spared. Something so innocuous, innocent-looking, so fragile, would soon transform into an omen of bad luck for the time to come. It could have been a coincidence, Jeno often thought, fighting against the curiosity to see another. But Neo didn’t allow coincidences, or miracles. Butterflies now meant warning.

It wasn’t the first occurence of a word morphing into a meaning far from its original intention. Perhaps he and Jaemin had been too caught up in their own bubble to follow the trends, both young and wanting nothing to do with the older citizens, but as he woke up to find out the colour green now meant ‘love’, he wished he could have focused a little more on town gossip during this part of its history. Oh, well. Neo was like that, he supposed. Nothing to decipher from it.

But the day Jaemin tried dyeing his hair green, Jeno realised he would never need to understand where the association had come from anymore. Maybe he had still been unfamiliar with the concept of love as a whole, but when it came to green, he _understood_ , now. Especially when Jaemin was pouting as he looked at the horrendous results in the mirror, disappointed at his best friend’s attempt at a dye job, while Jeno could only stare back and think about how endearing the boy was. After a day, Jaemin went back to black, and that same night, Jeno dreamt of a boy with hair greener than grass and a smile brighter than the stars.

As fast as the colour green and Jeno’s heart floated all the way up to Jaemin, so did the butterflies when they came down from the sky that fateful day. A day Jeno would never forget, nor forgive himself for – had he seen them first, maybe Jaemin wouldn’t have coughed up a storm in the middle of City Center, his nose bleeding, lungs tightening, Jeno almost failing to catch him in time before he hit the ground unconscious. Maybe then, Jaemin wouldn’t have been stuck in the hospital for weeks without end, a mystery disease dragging on and on with all hope flying out the window the longer he stayed. Maybe then, Jeno could have taken his place, his life on the line instead of Jaemin’s, sparing his best friend the fear of embracing death.

It hadn’t happened that way, as the story told. It was likely Jaemin would have fallen ill whether Jeno had shielded his friend’s eyes from the creatures or not, but the possibility he might have been able to do something kept dangling over his head, leaving him restless. And although they would never know of alternate outcomes, Jeno couldn’t stop his head from bringing up those ‘ _what-if_ ’s over and over again, a parade of scenarios worse and worse each time.

“What are you thinking about?” Jaemin asked, legs dangling off his bed, his focus remaining on the novel he was halfway through. Some story about the kind of things Renjun liked to talk about, elves and dwarves, a weird ring, and for some reason, a volcano. Seemed a little too unrealistic, in Jeno’s opinion.

“Nothing,” Jeno replied from the armchair in the corner of Jaemin’s room. It was rain week again, which explained their unusual indoor presence – the two boys would never miss out on a chance to be outside. Jeno was still soaked from his walk, coming over to Jaemin’s house only to find out they’d be reading books. There really was nothing to do on rainy days, except think. Something Jeno never seemed to stop doing, even when the Sun shone down on them, not a cloud in sight.

“Lie,” Jaemin called out, raising a suspicious eyebrow at his friend. Jeno shifted in his seat, avoiding the boy’s gaze at all costs; Jaemin always knew how to read between the lines of his frown, and Jeno had to keep his thoughts to himself, at least this once. For the younger’s sake. “We’re always thinking about something. But especially you,” he pointed out, flipping a page of his book, arrogance in the sound of paper tearing through the air in a swift but forceful movement. As if Jaemin had already figured him out, and all attempts on his behalf would remain useless.

Jeno looked up from the notebook he was writing in, meeting Jaemin’s knowing smirk. He wished for nothing more than to wipe that cheeky smile off his face, his brain already gearing up for insults. Or maybe write down all the ways it made him feel. “What am I thinking about then, mister Know-It-All?” Jeno insisted, tilting his head.

Jaemin snickered, rolling his eyes. These days, his hair was a dreamy pastel pink; the best colour on him to this day, although Jeno would always harbour a soft spot toward the one that first made his heart flutter. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking,” Jaemin answered. His eyes seemed to linger on Jeno a little longer than usual, then went back to the book in his hands. Huh. He must have had something on his face. “With you, Lee Jeno, I can never know.”

Jeno closed his notebook with a frown, tapping the tip of his pencil over his jaw. _I could say the same about you, Na Jaemin_.

  
  


} {

  
  


His condition wasn’t getting better. Mark knew, Doyoung knew, Jaemin knew, Jeno knew. Yet each of them pretended to be unaware of the outcome, spending their days as if tomorrow would wake as it did before. There would be a day where tomorrow wouldn’t come, and Jeno was painfully aware of it, but they all pushed the thought away. Still, it lingered, a clock ticking over Jaemin’s frail body, the boy bundled up in the itchy sheets of a hospital bed creaking at his every move.

Everyday, Jeno walked down the hall towards Jaemin’s room, dread climbing up his spine in fear of receiving the news that would tear his world apart. Everyday, a sigh of relief escaped his lips as he found the boy alive and (sometimes) well in his bed, his hospital-induced frown dissolving into a smile he kept for Jeno only. This smile was the greatest indicator of his condition, Jeno had learned, since the sick boy refused to say anything when it came to his illness. And on the days when the smile became smaller, an exhausted grin trying to hide how unwell he was, Jeno knew to hold on tighter to their joined hands.

That day, when the door opened to reveal Jeno, Jaemin didn’t turn around to look at the visitor. Then, when Jeno sat down and grabbed his hand, as he usually did to calm himself down – a reminder Jaemin was still there, he wasn’t dreaming –, it remained stiff, unwelcoming. For a split second, Jeno wondered if the worst had happened, until he heard a sigh coming from Jaemin’s lips. His fingers twitched in Jeno’s hand.

Something was off. “Jeno,” Jaemin mumbled, closing his eyes. Everything about him screamed exhaustion, even more than usual. Could today be— No. Not today, it wouldn’t. Jaemin would be fine and back to his usual self in no time, and that was the only thought his brain was allowed to have. Jeno brought his friend’s hand to his own chest, dragging his chair closer to the bed. “I don’t know what to do.”

He had no idea what Jaemin was talking about, if the boy was even aware of what he was saying, but Jeno would be damned if he didn’t try to understand his best friend’s ramblings when he was in such a state. “About what, Nana? Maybe I can help,” Jeno suggested, figuring whatever Jaemin had to do couldn’t be so complicated. He hadn’t left the room in weeks; what could he possibly need help for?

His hand stiff as ever under Jeno’s touch, Jaemin sighed, opening his eyes reluctantly. They had stopped lightening up along his smile long ago, but Jeno still yearned for that warmth everytime the younger opened his eyes. Only to find them empty each time. “I don’t know what to do about you, Jeno.”

The words took him by surprise, to say the least. “Me?” Jeno frowned. Had he been causing him trouble? Jaemin should have said something earlier, if his presence was a bother to his recovery – or any aspect of his life, for all he knew. Or was there something else he should be worried about? Something Jaemin had omitted to tell him, and now that he was backed up into a corner, he had no choice but to say it?

The answer was sadder than anything he could have imagined. “I don’t know how to leave you,” Jaemin muttered, his eyes looking up to Jeno. Hollow, these irises which used to spark up with golden flakes when Jeno was lucky enough to catch the Sun smile down on his best friend. “How to leave without hurting you.”

Jeno gulped. “Who says you’re leaving?” He forced out a smile. The illusion was deemed ineffective, Jaemin looking away. Jeno wasn’t the greatest at comforting other people; he was still working on it. “Nana,” he said, softening his tone, more appropriate this time. “Of course I’d be sad if you left. And it would hurt, because it’s you. Not because _of_ you,” he clarified, hoping to ease his friend’s concerns, although Jeno definitely knew it would hurt like hell, for far too long. “I wouldn’t blame you for it.”

Jaemin turned his head again at the words, this time staring straight into Jeno’s eyes, into his soul. “Should I tell you I love you?”

It was as if the whole world had gone silent, the earth had stopped turning, the entity ruling over the universe had hit pause on Jeno’s surroundings. In this infinite silence, all he could hear was his heartbeat climb up, faster with each vibration, shaking his bones to their very core. “What?”

“Or should I tell you I don’t?” Jaemin continued without leaving time for Jeno to process what was happening, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. _Did he— What?_ “Which one would make it easier for you to move on?”

His mind had gone blank, except for the word ‘ _confusion_ ’ written in bold letters dancing around the empty space. “I— I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Jeno stammered. Had those been a love confession and a rejection, all in the span of five seconds, or was he dreaming? It couldn’t be. Could it? This was too much for Jeno’s lovesick brain to handle.

“Jeno,” Jaemin sighed. The boy wasn’t having it today, to Jeno’s dismay. “You like me. Don’t you?”

He wasn’t supposed to figure it out. It shouldn’t have happened like this. It was supposed to come from him, Jeno, after gathering up his courage for weeks, in an alternate universe where Jaemin had never heard of illness. It should have been well planned, revealed only when Jeno would be certain of a positive outcome. Not in a hospital room, death hanging by the door, with no clue if the feeling was mutual. Never like this. “Well, yeah, you’re my best friend,” Jeno chuckled, choking out the mixture of surprise and shame stuck in his throat.

“You know I don’t mean it that way,” Jaemin corrected, a pitiful expression stretching across his traits. Jeno wished he could have been strong enough to leave, right then and there. Alas, when it came to Jaemin, he was utterly powerless. “You like me.”

Jeno was fucked. “What makes you say that?” He kept a straight face, fingers crossed behind his back for Jaemin to drop the whole thing. He might lose it if Jaemin pronounced those three words again. Or worse, cave in and spill out everything he had ever felt for him. Neither could happen.

Jaemin looked away. “I’ve had a lot of visitors in the past weeks,” he started, biting down on his lips before he continued. “I noticed things. Like, you don’t look at me the way our other friends do. It feels different. More… special, somehow.” He blinked, his eyes settling on Jeno’s hand wrapped around his. “You come every single day; you never miss the chance. You’re willing to fight Doyoung to see me. You hold on to my hand like your life depends on it.”

This time, it was Jeno’s turn to look away, letting go of Jaemin’s hand. “This is what makes me say that,” Jaemin added, because of course the boy wasn’t finished, of course Jeno’s misery wasn’t ending there. “How you read me stories when I’m too tired to talk. How you bring me homemade food every week. Those little things say a lot more than what you tell me. But it doesn’t mean I can’t hear them.”

Since he had figured out his affection towards Jaemin was way more than platonic, Jeno had daydreamed too many scenarios mapping out the different possibilities of how he would ever confess to his best friend while acknowledging his own feelings. However, none of them had prepared him for this; Jaemin being aware of it the whole time. “Can’t two friends hold hands?” Jeno stammered, cursing himself for being so transparent, so fucking idiotic.

Jaemin didn’t say anything for a while, the both of them caught in their own thoughts. Jeno wished he could go back in time five minutes earlier, erase the flow of events. But Neo would never grant him such a miracle; if it hadn’t done anything to cure his best friend, Neo wouldn’t help him out here either.

“Jeno,” Jaemin broke the silence. _Please, don’t say anything more_ , Jeno begged. _Don’t say my name like that when you know what it does to me._ “Tell me, what do I need to say to make you at peace with yourself after I’m gone?”

Jeno shook his head. He had heard Jaemin say this countless times before, but this one seemed to hurt more than the others. “You’re not going away,” he objected. Jaemin would get better. He had to. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“I am.” For the first time, Jaemin was the one grabbing Jeno’s hand, forcing their fingers to intertwine. Jeno would have loved this, had it happened any other time of their lives. But today, the simple contact of Jaemin’s fingers so close to his own was enough to burn his skin through. “ I can’t leave knowing you’ll have a hard time moving on,” Jaemin admitted, squeezing Jeno’s hand. This felt wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. “How can I make you forget about me, Jeno? Should I reject you?” he continued, his eyes never leaving Jeno, wide open, taking in all the details of his face he might never see again. When they lingered a second too long over his lips, Jeno gulped. “Or kiss you?”

As if the words had opened a door previously unlocked, a realisation slithered its way inside Jeno. It was never about him liking Jaemin, but about Jaemin trying to free himself of guilt before going away. About taking care of all the things he had on his mind, and to leave with a free spirit. It was never about the boy in love, or the subject of his affections. Jeno knew Jaemin better than anyone; when he wanted something, felt something, nothing could stand in his way, running head on towards what he wanted. But now, he was asking Jeno to choose for him? As if disconnected from his own feelings, his own needs? It meant business, closing a contract long overdue. Doing the right thing, the necessary, rather than doing what his heart desired.

Jeno snatched his hand away from Jaemin’s grip, something he never thought he’d have to do. “How can you say things like that?” Jeno exclaimed, borderline offended by Jaemin’s statement. Was he just a side character in his friend’s story, a filler plot device with no actual purpose? Because it felt an awful lot like that, a pawn to close a story arc in the most satisfying way possible despite the circumstances. Leaving him the choice. As if Jaemin wasn’t bothered enough to even care. What an _insult_. “Do you not care at all?” _About me? My feelings? Fuck, your own feelings?_ “How about—” He stopped himself mid sentence, wondering if going this far would be worth it. He had already fucked up, anyway; his secret was out, and there was no going back. “How about you tell me the truth?”

This was so confusing, maybe even more than earlier on. Did Jaemin like him back, and was indecisive about keeping his secret to the grave? Did he not like Jeno, but wasn’t ready to hurt his feelings in case it were the last time they’d ever see each other? But if Jaemin could out his best friend without an ounce of doubt, so sure of himself, it shouldn’t hurt for him to admit his feelings, whether disappointing or not, right? Best case scenario, a bittersweet ending followed by heartbreak. Worst case, the exact same outcome.

Jaemin threw his way a sad smile, apologetic. Nice show he was putting on, for a guy who would be free of guilt in a future too near. “The truth might do more harm than good,” he reasoned, propping himself up on his elbows with a wince. “I can’t afford to say it, if it hurts you in the long run.”

Getting up from his chair, Jeno scoffed, unable to keep his frustrations inside. “Are you kidding me? What kind of bullshit is this?” He growled, his patience running thin. Really, dumbass excuses to make up for the fact he was too much of a wimp to admit his true feelings? Choosing the responsible path, when he had spent all his life in Neo doing the complete opposite? Fuck him. As if Jeno could be hurt any harder. “Either way, in the long run, I’m still losing my best friend,” he reminded him. _Kiss me or hate me, I’m still losing my Jaemin._

Jeno sighed, running a hand through his hair. The air in this room had always felt suffocating, but never as much as it did now, tension grabbing him by the throat. “I need to go,” he let out. He had to leave this room. Had to leave Jaemin.

“Jeno,” Jaemin protested as he made his way to the door, Jeno trying his hardest not to look back. “Jeno!”

His resolve was shattered when he heard Jaemin cough. Rough, scratching his throat, unable to stop, that kind of cursed coughing fit; and in Jaemin’s case, usually accompanied by red liquid coming out the mouth. Jeno didn’t have to think twice as he made his way back to the hospital bed. He placed a hand over Jaemin’s chest, his other grabbing a tissue absentmindedly.

“Breathe, okay? Nana, follow my breathing,” he instructed, wiping some blood away from Jaemin’s face. The sight never got easier to see, even if he had done it a hundred times before. “Look at me, Jaemin. Inhale,” he demonstrated, Jaemin shakily following, “exhale. Good. Do it again. I’m here. It’s okay,” he reassured the boy, using his thumb to wipe a stray tear. “Inhale. Exhale.”

Jaemin calmed down after a few minutes, Jeno staying behind to make sure he would be okay. He ran his hand through Jaemin’s hair, knowing the boy needed comfort after episodes like these. Jeno might have been pissed at him, but friendship would always come first, and maybe love, if they let it.

Jeno left after Jaemin fell asleep, Mark assigned to his care. He would be okay, Jeno was sure of it. But right now, he needed a breather, a break to digest all that had gone through his brain earlier in the day. There was a lot to unpack there, and Jeno needed time away from Jaemin to figure out his next move.

This explained why he was sitting in the middle of an empty classroom at two in the afternoon, legs dangling off a desk, the words _FUCK OFF_ written on the chalkboard. He liked coming here when he had too much on his mind, certain he would be left alone and unbothered for as long as he would need to. Other than his notebook, this was the only place he felt safe enough to share his emotions. Hence the chalkboard.

Neo had all the accommodations of a functioning city, which was a real shame since no one with any qualifications whatsoever had crossed the border yet. A perfectly working hospital without doctors, a huge mall containing hundreds of stores with a single employee, a town hall without mayor, a clean school with no teachers. Neo had planned too far ahead of its expectations, and it left Jeno alone where life should have been buzzing, where he should have been learning instead of moping the loss of his biggest secret, his unattainable hope.

Jaemin didn’t like him; it was the only conclusion that made sense, after hours of racking his brain for answers. If he wanted peace of mind, and had liked Jeno, he would’ve told him instead of leaving with the regret of never saying anything. It made sense. He didn’t like him now, and the only guilt he was trying to get rid off was leaving his best friend longing for more.

Jeno wasn’t as sad as he thought he would be. It was a bummer, sure, but as long as he had Jaemin by his side, he was fine with watching from afar. As long as the boy was happy, he’d be happy as well; that was the way love worked, right? Wanting the other’s well-being. And oh, how Jeno wished every night for Jaemin to wake up in the morning and be well.

His train of thought was stopped by the door of the classroom opening, Jeno turning his head around to meet the gaze of the last person he would have expected to walk into this building. “Taeyong?” He said, the older throwing him an awkward little wave. This was odd, even for Neo. “Are you lost?”

Taeyong closed the door behind him. “Really?” He snickered, walking up closer to the younger. “I haven’t seen you in weeks, and this is what you have to tell me?” He smirked, sitting down in one the the plastic chairs next to Jeno’s desk.

 _Asshole hasn’t changed a bit, I see_. “What was I supposed to say?” Jeno retorted, raising an eyebrow at the man’s cockiness. “You haven’t come to see me in weeks. That’s on you.”

“Alright, fair point,” Taeyong sighed, shrugging. He leaned back in his chair, all his weight on the two back legs. Jeno wouldn’t have been surprised if he fell. “So, what’s up with you?” He then asked, and that’s when Jeno knew something was wrong; the whole thing must have been a scam of some sort, because Taeyong wasn’t one to walk around and ask people about their day. There had to been something behind.

“Get to the point, Taeyong. I’m not in the mood,” Jeno called out, his stern voice a mirror of his _I-know-what-you’re-trying-to-do-and-it’s-not-working_ expression, one Taeyong was already too familiar with. He sighed, rolling his eyes in defeat.

“Fine,” he resigned, but as the room fell into a silence longer than Jeno had expected, as Taeyong’s traits turned softer than he had ever seen him be, Jeno figured he had to expect the worst. Taeyong took a deep breath. “How… How you holding up?”

Jeno had expected it, yet he was still taken aback, looking for an answer he couldn’t understand. As if figuring out your feelings for a dying best friend was a piece of cake. “I… I don’t know. I really don’t,” he settled on this half-truth, avoiding Taeyong’s eyes. “Depends on the day, I guess.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Taeyong nodding at his words. Like he knew exactly what he had meant, even though he couldn’t have been any more vague and cryptic about it. “And what is it, today?” Taeyong added, visibly looking for more information out of the younger boy.

Fortunately for him, Jeno had an answer this time. “Bad.”

Another silence. It felt so foreign; silence between them had never been this awkward, this tense. But the good old days were long gone, in this sad excuse of a classroom, empty with two strangers. “I’m sorry to hear that,” the older sympathised, both of them suffocating under the uneasiness. How did it come down to this?

“Sure,” Jeno huffed, skeptic. The older had known for a while how Jeno was having a hard time, everyone around town knew. Why was he sorry now? “Why are you here, Taeyong?” He asked, looking down at the man. Even his best friends didn’t dare ask how he was doing anymore, afraid to twist the knife in Jeno’s wound. There was something hidden underneath Taeyong’s question, and if he didn’t spill the beans soon, Jeno would force it out of him.

“What, I can’t take news from my brother anymore?” Taeyong scoffed, pretending to take offense at his words. Deep down, he must have known this wasn’t the answer Jeno wanted; the nervous smile on his lips betrayed his true intentions.

 _We don’t know if we are_ , Jeno thought. “No, I mean, now. Where have you been, before?” He clarified, leaving no choice to the older but tell the truth. “Why didn’t you come earlier?” He added, softer, more vulnerable this time. If they really were brothers, why did he fade into the background of Jeno’s life? “Where were you?”

Taeyong looked up to Jeno, shaking his head. “I— I couldn’t,” he stumbled over his words, frowning, as if he had used all his strength to get them out. He looked down at his lap, the chair’s four legs settling on the ground. Jeno expected another sentence to follow, but when no sound came out of Taeyong’s mouth, he was reminded how closed-off his supposed brother had always been. And how it had always pissed him off.

“What happened to you, Taeyong?” He let out, the question on his mind for long enough unable to be kept inside anymore. “You used to rule this town. You were the best at it. Now we have Johnny’s corny ass to look after us. You used to, I don’t know, _be_ here. And now, it’s like you’re a ghost.”

Jeno remembered the day he had met Taeyong, the day the city met its ten locals. Even when the younger knew nothing but his name, he had always had a strong, leader-like presence which struck him with awe. The way he stood, how he spoke, his maturity intertwined with playfulness, it inspired Jeno; it made him want to be like him. The aura, the dream, they had all faded now. “What happened, Taeyong?”

The older didn’t look up. “Same thing that might happen to you, too.”

When Taeyong had first told Jeno he thought they must have been brothers, the younger couldn’t resist the smile and joy overwhelming his senses. Together, they were family; they had something no one else had, and no one could take it away from them. But today, for the first time, Jeno regretted going along with it. “Fuck you,” he spat, getting up from the desk with the firm intention of leaving and never coming back to him. Taeyong was an asshole. He had always been, and Jeno had been too starstruck to realise. It ended now.

“No, Jeno—” Taeyong got up just as quick, grabbing him by the wrist before he could move out of reach. “Look, okay? I lost someone too. Maybe not in the same way, but I did feel all those things you might get to feel. Alright?” Jeno tried shaking him off, but the man’s grip was stronger. “It feels like fucking shit. I know it’s hard to do anything after it happens, I know you’ll want to shut yourself out, I know all those things. And I don’t want them to happen to you.”

Jeno succeeded in freeing himself from Taeyong, looking at him in disbelief. “Well, it’s going to fucking happen unless you have a magic potion in that house of yours!” He yelled, his eyes getting watery all of a sudden. Why couldn’t Taeyong pretend, like the rest of them? Why did he have to speak the truth so harshly, one Jeno had refused to hear since the beginning?

“Let me finish, Jeno,” Taeyong muttered – a stark contrast to Jeno’s anger –, placing his hands over the boy’s shoulders. He didn’t try to shake them off, this time. “Whatever happens… I don’t want you to handle it the way I did. Become half of what you used to be. I let that happen to myself and— and I regret it. It felt like shit because I didn’t give myself the chance to feel better. I wallowed in it, holding onto maybes. So I stayed in that stage longer than I should have, and now, voilà.” Taeyong gave Jeno’s shoulders a light squeeze, before grabbing his hands instead. They were ice cold over the younger’s skin. “You’re all I have left, Jeno. And I won’t let anything like that happen to you too.”

Jeno looked down at Taeyong. Time had flown by so fast, he hadn’t noticed how he was now towering over his brother. He wasn’t a child anymore, yet the whole town had made it their priority to baby him during these trying times. Except for Taeyong. “If I’m all you have, why didn’t you come help me when I needed someone?” He asked, his breath ragged, shaky. “When I needed you?”

Taeyong’s smile was full of sorrow. “Because I’m a bad person. Ask anyone,” he shrugged, and Jeno wondered how much his brother had suffered all this time, how little of the pain he was telling. How much of it was waiting for him, too. “But you’re good, Jeno. And you deserve to be happy after all this.” Taeyong gulped, holding on tighter than ever to Jeno’s hands. Slowly but surely, they were warming up to him. “I wanted you to know you have me. You’re not alone. Okay?”

He had wanted to hear those words from him for so long, he had trouble believing this was real. _You have me._ Doyoung had told him the same words before. So did Jaemin, and even Renjun, Donghyuck and Mark. But none of them touched Jeno the way he did at this moment. This day had been so exhausting, and Taeyong had been the balm over his fragile heart he had needed all this time.

It was no wonder he cracked so easily. “I don’t want him to go,” Jeno broke down, the tears overriding his system. Taeyong wrapped his arms around Jeno’s body, and he let himself be embraced by the one who had always known how to care for him. He had missed this so bad.

“I know,” Taeyong murmured, rubbing circles on his back. Jeno was sobbing now, holding onto Taeyong for dear life. He didn’t want him to go either. “I know, baby, I know.”

  
  


} {

  
  


“See, you’re doing it again.”

Jeno sighed, breaking out of his trance. “Doing what now?”

“Thinking,” Jaemin shrugged, nose deep inside his book. How could he notice Jeno’s absentmindness so well, when he was completely focused on doing something else? And, _is that not allowed anymore?_ Jeno wanted to ask, but Jaemin spoke again before he could get a word in. “Come over here,” he said, tapping the empty space next to him on his bed, smirking.

Jeno’s eyes widened, gulping. “What? Why?” He stammered, opening his notebook and pretending to write something, in hopes of hiding the blush creeping up his face. He knew he was overreacting, but his body decidedly felt otherwise.

The pink haired boy rolled his eyes all the way to the Gray area. “Because it’s boring when you’re far from me. Get up now,” Jaemin insisted, his eyes trailing on Jeno, piercing. The latter obliged as Jaemin started pouting, taking a deep breath before leaving the comfort of his armchair. Maybe he was a _little_ whipped.

Jeno sat down on the comforter, at the very end of the bed, and Jaemin cheered, immediately moving closer to him and resting his head on his shoulders. “That’s better,” he purred – and yes, that shocked Jeno even more than his display of affection – and got back to his book.

Out in the world, the two boys were the epitome of cringe: walking arm-in-arm, throwing cheesy pick-up lines at each other, grossing their friends out. It was a joke between them to go all out with their lovey-dovey act, and Jeno savoured every second of it, pretending it was real. Behind closed doors, though, they were best friends still, but the touches, the puns, they were never as intense. Which explained Jeno’s surprise at Jaemin’s behaviour; they were alone in the room, no one to impress. Out of the ordinary never sat well in Jeno’s dictionary.

Looking at his friend’s side profile, Jeno was reminded of the days following their small fight. He had decided not to go back to the hospital after the whole fiasco, at least for a few days, only putting foot inside the building after Renjun had knocked on his door two days later and practically begged him to see Jaemin, for he had gotten ‘ _so much more fucking insufferable, I can’t believe Mark hasn’t strangled him already_ ’. Jeno would never forget the look on Jaemin’s face as he walked into the room.

“You’re the only thing that keeps me sane,” Jaemin had said, before taking Jeno’s hand in his own and asking for forgiveness with the most sincerity Jeno had ever heard in his voice. He would have kissed him then and there, but he kept his needs to himself, accepting the apology on a few conditions: Jaemin had to forget what happened that day, while giving Jeno space to process everything for a couple of days. The younger objected, requesting for Jeno to come see him everyday starting now, even if it were for mere minutes.

Of course Jeno agreed; he was heads over heels for the boy, and as much as he were angry, he had to do all he could to ensure his friend would come back to health. And so he came over every day, short visits followed by longer hangouts with Doyoung, then longer visits and shorter hangouts, until Jaemin was back on his feet, illness and incident forgotten – by anyone but Jeno –, their friendship rekindled the way it used to be.

Well, not exactly the same. Something had changed along the way, a small shift too gradual to notice. But when Jaemin was resting his head on his shoulder so naturally, when the thought used to make him laugh and scrunch up his nose as if it were the most ridiculous thing in the world, Jeno couldn’t say he was disappointed about the turnout.

He shrugged the memories away, getting back to his notebook. It was a gift from Taeyong, when they were a lot younger and time hadn’t interfered with their relationship. He had only started using it after Jaemin fell ill, and ever since, he poured his heart out to the blank pages day after day. Jeno had told his younger friend he wrote stories in them, to keep him from getting too curious. Jaemin could never come across all the embarrassing, unrequited feelings Jeno had written down inside.

Jeno should have known by now Neo had never, ever worked in his favour. “When will you let me read your stories?” Jaemin asked, putting his book down and looking up to Jeno from his shoulder. Damn, he was cute. But, oh boy.

“It’s not finished,” Jeno chided in, slamming the notebook shut. “It’s unreadable. It would need a lot of editing and—”

“Come on, I’m sure it’s not bad,” Jaemin interrupted, reaching out to grab the book. Jeno had never been so quick to react, moving it away from the curious boy, his hand out of reach. Jaemin scoffed at his reaction, straightening his back to face Jeno right in the eyes. “Why so secretive, Lee? Got something to hide?” He mocked, attempting to grab the object one more time. Jeno held it further away, his arm reaching its full extension potential. This wouldn’t work much longer.

“I just want it to be perfect—” He started, but his thought process crumbled as Jaemin climbed on top of him, straddling his lap and reaching up to grab the book again. Oh my _fuck_. “Hey, what the fuck!”

“I’ll back off after I’ve read it,” Jaemin winked, grunting as he tried to stretch himself higher. They had never been this close before, and had the boy not been trying to read all his secrets, he would’ve melted right then and there.

“Nana, stop—” He whined, about to throw the book across the room in a last resort when Jaemin smashed his lips on Jeno’s cheek, loud and wet and definitely unexpected. The shock was enough to make him drop the book, which Jaemin swiftly picked up, wearing a triumphant smile.

Jeno touched his cheek, right where Jaemin had kissed him. Jaemin had _kissed_ him. This couldn’t be real. Could it? “Are you sick, Jaemin?” Jeno blurted out, explanations running frantic in his mind. The younger had only shown possible romantic affection towards Jeno when he was ill and on death’s doorstep. Was it happening again?

“Perfectly healthy,” Jaemin bit down on his lip, trying to hide a shy smile. A bright pink tinted his cheeks, proving his statement.

Well, this didn’t clarify anything. “Then, why?” Jeno asked, brows furrowed in confusion. He hated not understanding, but uncertainty seemed to be a permanent state of mind for the boy nowadays. That, and thinking about the pink haired boy tilting his head at him.

“Why do you think?” the latter replied, his eyes turning to crescents with the smile he was harbouring. How cute and beautiful and spectacular. Fuck, he was a _lot_ whipped.

“I don’t know,” Jeno shrugged. “That’s why I’m asking.”

A hand slapped his bicep lightly. “You’re a little dense sometimes, Jeno. You know that?” Jaemin chuckled, giving back the notebook and dropping another kiss on Jeno’s cheek. It sent sparks down his whole body, leaving him longing for more. “But we’ll work on that.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something going relatively good? hell yeah
> 
> we're halfway through ladies and gents... thank you if you followed this story since the very beginning, thank you if you joined along the way, and thank you if you only found this just now!! i love all of you!! thank you for the support xoxo


	10. YUTA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the moon has risen, yet yuta remains alone.

**x**. YUTA

 

The first time he had seen him, Sicheng was on the ground, having fallen a couple seconds earlier from stepping on a misplaced rock in City Center. Yuta had witnessed the fall from afar, the foreigner unaware of these eyes on him as he tripped and hit his head on the asphalt with a loud thump. Wincing at the sound, Yuta had run up to him and held out his hand, ready to help the newcomer get back to his feet and bring him to the hospital if necessary.

Three things happened when the fallen man looked up to him. First off, Yuta took a step back, shocked by the sheer beauty he had been struck by. This guy was handsome, the most beautiful man he had ever seen, and Yuta wasn’t one to throw around the word ‘beautiful’ lightly, especially when said individual had blood dripping down the forehead. Second, he blushed as he heard the man ask him ‘ _Is everyone around here this hot, or is it just you?_ ’. And third, his breath got stuck in his throat as he realised the man hadn’t opened his mouth to compliment him; it had reverberated against the walls, reached his ears, yet he hadn’t made a sound. He couldn’t talk, yet he spoke just fine – albeit under the influence of a fresh concussion, which probably explained the impromptu flirting.

These three things happened under five seconds, but from that short span, Yuta knew the man was one to keep close.

When he discovered the feelings he had for Sicheng revolved less and less around friendship, three things were happening. One, Yuta was laying on the sand, head raised to watch Sicheng, and he was laughing, the sunglasses resting over his head falling right on his nose. Second, Sicheng was whining, his wide eyes begging for Yuta’s help as, third, the waves crashed again Sicheng’s sand sculpture, rendering the already-abstract structure into an undistinguishable blob. One day at the beach, one moment where they locked eyes, and Yuta knew his agony was just getting started.

It had been a day filled with revelations, but it couldn’t compare to the day he figured out he was completely, utterly heads over heels in love with Dong Sicheng.

It went as such, in a sequence of three, as most checkpoints in Yuta’s life seemed to take. First, Yuta removed the Sun from its anchor point, careful not to squeeze it too hard – it had never happened before, but he preferred not to take that chance – and was about to put it away in its jar when, second, Sicheng spoke up.

“Can I hold it?” He asked, his voice small but hopeful. It was the first time he had expressed such interest in Yuta’s tasks, usually watching him go and resting with him when he got tired. It was a refreshing change, to have the boy participate along with him. It could do some good to them both.

Yuta nodded. He couldn’t say no to that boy anyway; it was a well known fact around Neo. “Careful. It might be hot,” Yuta warned, holding out the burning star for his friend to take. Sicheng cupped his hands, his eyes sparkling at the mere thought of touching the brightest star, and Yuta let the Sun roll down his palm into the boy’s.

And third, Sicheng broke into a smile, wincing. “This is crazy,” he exclaimed, laughter roaring from his ribcage. He looked so happy, the happiest Yuta had ever seen him be, with the magic of the sky within his palms in a fiery intensity. But Yuta was far from sharing the same perspective, the earlier sound replaying inside his mind at an alarming rate, grabbing back the hottest object in the universe from Sicheng to discover burn marks inside the boy’s hands.

“Fuck, Sicheng, I’m so sorry.” Regret engulfed his whole being, grasping onto the Sun tighter as if it would protect the Sun’s ray from reaching his friend again. Couldn’t Yuta have used his brain, for one second? Sicheng could have been seriously hurt; Yuta was used to this heat, while the other wasn’t. Why hadn’t he thought this through before giving in, and listened to his demand without considering the consequences? Now Sicheng had gotten hurt, because of him and his recklessness.

“Why are you sorry?” Sicheng giggled, still riding the high of holding an object of such importance. His smile was so bright it rivalled the Sun. He looked down at his wounded palms, acknowledging the touch of the sphere rather than the damage it had caused. “That was amazing. Do you know how many people can say they touched the Sun?” He exclaimed, and in one swift motion, he threw his arms around Yuta’s neck, hugging him tight. Every regret blossoming in Yuta’s chest died at the touch; it turned out he wouldn’t have changed this moment for the world. “Thank you, Yuta.”

Yuta was in love.

“You and me,” Yuta replied, the rhetorical question still ringing through his ears the way each one of Sicheng’s words did. The two lucky enough to be one with the stars, they were them and only them, and Yuta didn’t intend for that to change, ever.

“Yeah, you and me,” Sicheng repeated, a low rumble giving him goosebumps.

Yuta was in love.

  
  


} {

  
  


Today, Sicheng didn’t come.

Yuta stood on the hill, looking around for any sign of life, pushing off his duties and waiting longer than necessary. Maybe the younger was running late. He might have had something important right before that Yuta would have been unaware of. They were very close, but it didn’t mean they were always together. They needed their space too, and that was the basis of a functioning relationship, however the word was defined between them.

Maybe this was a day one of these days, where Sicheng needed his space more than usual. It didn’t happen much, but it remained a possibility nonetheless. Yuta could be a bit overbearing, sometimes; it wouldn’t surprise him if the other wanted nothing to do with him, for a while. Yuta understood. He too would have taken a break from himself, if he could.

With a sigh followed by one last look towards the city, he raised his arms high and got to work as he always did. One missing puzzle piece couldn’t stand in the way of the universe, Yuta had learned. He had to keep going, no matter what, for the sake of the greater good. So he raised his arms even higher and touched the fabric of the sky, the heat of the constellations under his fingertips. And when all was in place, when the Moon stood high again surrounded by its loyal stars, the Sun tucked away into its jar, the world could go on.

Yuta stumbled and laid down before he could lose consciousness, prepared to face the dizziness that came along with such otherworldly matter. Except this time, he found no blanket underneath him, no granola bar thrown his way, no warmth pressed against him, giving him back the energy he had lost. The stars might have been shining down on him, he had never felt so incomplete, surrounded by pieces of himself in everything.

With the Sun away, the cold air wasted no time in filling the hills with its frozen breath, Yuta shivering. _Time to go home_ , the Moon whispered, carried by the wind in a song only the man could decipher. Yuta propped himself up on his elbows and got up on his wobbly feet, listening to the only voice that would never let him down, and began his trail home.

He shook his head at the thought, scrunching his nose; no, Sicheng hadn’t let him down. He hadn’t; coming here wasn’t his responsibility, far from it. Yuta had never asked him to, Sicheng was never forced to. It had always been of his own will, following the older around, showing concern when he was feeling down, getting invested when all Yuta wanted was to do his job without a gorgeous distraction making him lose track of time. And if Sicheng decided to take a break for a day, then it was fine, because he didn’t owe Yuta anything, and had never did. If anything, Yuta owed him.

It was no secret Neo was boring. The lack of entertainment could be felt by all its citizens, something that could only be cured by the addition of more people, more life. Yet the one thing they needed most always took its sweet time to come, with a limit of one individual falling through the cracks at the end of random Rain Weeks. Life in Neo was borderline painful, with the emptiness inside its walls. But particularly to the foreigners like Yuta, who had to learn and adapt to a new world faster than they could forget their past life, who had to walk the earth with knowledge of many greater things and hope for some kind of miracle that all these things would come to Neo, would make life interesting again.

Things changed for him after he met Sicheng. His fallen angel, literally, bringing with him a breath of fresh air and feelings long forgotten racing to the surface. He was the snarky kind of funny, he was imaginative, (he was both fucking attractive and cute), he had a personality brighter than the stars who loved him so much, and he was all Yuta could have asked for: deliverance from the monotonous. He was so interesting, entrancing, all the great things he had hoped would come to make his wishes come true. To Sicheng, he owed his freedom.

Which might have explained how Yuta felt, walking back home with no one to distract him from his thoughts. Caged, stuck inside Neo’s expectations of him, of what he had to do. Left without Sicheng, he felt like a pawn, a lifeless machine programmed to change the days into nights. Nothing to offer, nothing to receive, a dead man walking. But when they were together, Sicheng and him, they defied these assumptions, holding open the wings Neo had cut off at their arrival on estranged land. With Sicheng, he was who he wanted to be, without the outside world weighting in; his choices, his decisions, and nothing made him feel more like a person than taking action towards himself. With Sicheng, he felt like a person, and that was more than he could have ever asked for.

Sicheng wanted a break, for a day. He hadn’t deserted him, and Yuta would feel whole again soon. With or without him, he would always remain whole, even if it didn’t feel like it. Sicheng would be back. Nothing to worry about.

Okay, a little to worry about; as he walked up to open the door to his house, Yuta noticed it was already open, light coming in from inside. Did someone break in? Who would do that here, when everyone knew each other, and thousands of empty houses could be targeted instead of his? Maybe this was Sicheng, the only other owner of this place’s key, and he had forgotten to check if the door had closed on his way in. Yeah, that made more sense. Worry dissipated from Yuta’s traits as he pushed the door open, ready to greet the friend he had missed so badly.

Only to find none other than Taeil – yes, _Taeil_ – munching on a bag of chips, limbs sprawled across his couch, wrapped in one of the blankets from Yuta’s bedroom, bare feet resting on the coffee table. Yes, bare, because Yuta could see the removed socks tucked inside the shoes he had left by the door. If three interrogation points could make a sound, it would be the one ringing in Yuta’s ears.

“What the fuck…” he muttered, dropping his bag and closing the door behind him in a bang loud enough to make Taeil’s head jerk up at the sound. The oldest citizen’s fiery red hair was sticking up in odd places, and he squinted at Yuta before recognition overtook his traits, his lips twitching before regaining a serious composure.

“Damn, look who finally decided to show up,” Taeil groaned, putting his feet to the ground where they belonged. Yuta would have to clean that table thoroughly. “How long were you going to leave me hanging in here?” He asked, hand deep inside the stolen snack. It seemed he had reached the bottom of it, for he looked down the bag and groaned again, tossing it over the couch without a care for spilling crumbs all over the floor. Great.

“I— What?” Yuta stammered, baffled by Taeil’s statement. Had he invited him over, somehow, and then forgot about it? No, it wasn’t possible; they had barely ever exchanged a word since Yuta had gotten to Neo. If anything, they were meeting for the first time, in this awkward and inexplicable setting. “I never asked for you to come here. How did you even get in?”

Taeil shrugged, getting up, the blanket falling off his shoulders. Now that he was standing and Yuta could get a good look at him, he noticed the odd resemblance between their outfits: both were wearing button-ups in a different shade of blue, Yuta lighter than Taeil’s, and black skinny jeans. “Door was open,” he smirked, licking his fingers clean as he kept his eyes locked on Yuta’s. “All doors open for those in need.”

Neo had the reputation of being weird, but this guy took the cake. And it wasn’t the usual strangeness anymore; it was downright uncomfortable, Yuta almost wishing he could dash out, before remembering this was his own house. “That’s not true in the slightest, Taeil.”

“It is if you’re me,” Taeil winked, cheeky and not afraid to show it. _What the fuck is going on_. “Got a mirror in here?” He then requested, once again confusing Yuta, as if it were his main purpose in life. Well, if it were, one could say he was succeeding. “I think I dozed off. Your couch is mad comfy, Nakamoto.”

A shiver ran down his spine. Only Sicheng called him that, on occasion. No one else did. Not that his last name was a secret, but it had a personal dimension to it, too personal to be used by a stranger camping in his living room. “Bathroom,” Yuta pointed towards the destination, eager to see the man leave his sight.

He should have pointed him to the exit, Yuta thought; now that he had showed him the way, he might as well have invited him in. Fuck. Taeil threw his way a curious smile as he walked off. Why? “Is there a reason you’re here?” Yuta blurted, right before the man could disappear. He should have asked this question way earlier, in retrospect; might have cleared up a lot more things then.

Taeil got inside the bathroom, not closing the door behind him, but getting so far in Yuta couldn’t see what he was doing anymore from his spot in the living room. “Yep!” The reply echoed through the house. Then came the silence, too long for it to be a break between two joined sentences. Taeil was done talking, a single word enough of an answer in his own world.

So yeah, nothing at all got cleared up, and Yuta was left just as perplexed. What kind of normal human being _wouldn’t_ elaborate on such a question? “And would you mind… sharing it?” He tried, tiptoeing towards the bathroom. What could he be doing in there? He said he needed a mirror. How long could replacing messy hair take?

Taeil’s head popped out of the bathroom, his flaming hair somehow in worse shape than when he had first gotten in. It wasn’t much of a surprise, to Yuta. “Unfortunately, I cannot. Sorry,” Taeil said, an apologetic grin on his face as he got back in the bathroom to finish his business. _What— What kind of answer— What?_ “I wish I could, though.”

He couldn’t? Like, it wasn’t his choice to say, someone else behind this, forbidding him? Or more like he didn’t know how to put it in words? Either way, both were dumbass excuses. You didn’t get to break in, be caught, and not give any proper explanation. “Well, if you have nothing to say here, would you please leave?” Yuta demanded, growing tired of his antics with every passing second. “I’m not in the mood for visitors.”

At last Taeil got out of the bathroom, looking disheveled in every way. His hair was sticking out of place in an even more peculiar way than earlier, the top of his shirt was unbuttoned for some reason, and he had now removed his belt, throwing it over the couch. Taeil closed the light behind him as he scrubbed his lips with the palm of his hand, making them puffy and reddened. This wasn’t just weird or uncomfortable anymore; it was downright abnormal. “All in due time, Yuta,” he disregarded, waving the request away. “No need to be impatient.”

Yuta snickered, his annoyance unable to be kept inside any longer. Impatient? About _what_? Why was Taeil here, and why wouldn’t he leave already? “Alright, now you’re pissing me off—”

“Don’t you think it’s hot in here?” Taeil interrupted, fanning himself rather cartoonishly. Yuta let out an audible sigh, pursing his lips. Could the man stop being the epitome of obnoxious, for one second? “You must be suffocating.”

Yuta didn’t know what to expect, and even if he had had a semblance of a clue, he would have been dead wrong. But Taeil had walked up in front of him before he could process the action, the man lot closer than what Yuta was comfortable with – and he was usually the one making others uncomfortable by his proximity, not the other way around. Then came another unpleasant surprise he couldn’t have seen coming; Taeil’s hands were on his collar, his fingers unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt. Yuta froze as dread filled his veins, and he found himself unable to speak, panic creeping up on him. He looked down, Taeil’s eyes on him, and in that moment, a split second, he was afraid.

The fear was enough of a motivator to snap him out of whatever spell had overtook him, taking a step back away from Taeil and putting a hand over his chest. His heart was beating dangerously fast, and it wasn’t the _Sicheng-looks-cute-today_ kind, far from it. “Stop,” Yuta sputtered, his voice low and weaker than the firm and menacing look he was going for.

Taeil chuckled, raising his hands over his head. “Okay, fine,” he surrendered, a smile spreading on his cheeks. Was this _funny_ to him? What kind of game was he playing, and how could Yuta make it end? “I was just trying to help.”

Yuta frowned, trying to button up his shirt, but he was so out of it he didn’t bother placing them back in the right slots. “You’re weird, Taeil,” he mumbled, looking away. So what if the statement could hurt his feelings; like Yuta gave a fuck about this guy’s self-esteem right now. Yuta could feel eyes on him, like an itch that wouldn’t go away. A parasite, that’s what Taeil was.

“I’m always like this, baby,” he laughed, loud and insufferable, then closed the gap created by Yuta to ruffle the younger’s hair. Wow, Taeil did not care an inch about Yuta’s need to be as far from possible from the intruder. Yuta wanted to cut his fingers off. “You’d know if you hung out with more than one person,” he whispered the last part, Yuta almost missing the words.

Almost. “What is that supposed to mean?” He called out, unsure if he should be offended or the usual Taeil-induced kind of confused. An unnecessary mix of both, probably – and Yuta might have been able to figure it out, had the doorbell not rang as soon as his sentence ended.

Strange. Who would show up at this hour? The only viable answer was Sicheng, but had it been him, he would have used his spare key. “Sit down,” Taeil instructed, grabbing Yuta by the shoulders – by now, Yuta was daydreaming of amputating both his hands – and pushing him on the couch, the air knocked out of him. “I’ll go get it.”

 _This is_ my _house, idiot_ , he wanted to object, but the words wouldn’t leave his mouth, anticipation getting the best of him. Sicheng would have used his key. Yuta wasn’t considered close to any other Neocitizen, Council members included. Who was there, and how would they react when none other than Taeil would open the door, his chest exposed, hair messy, lips brighter than hair dye— _holy fuck, leave this door closed_.

The door opened. It was Sicheng, after all. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ —

“Oh, hey Sicheng,” Taeil greeted, his voice deep, sultry, out of character. _No, no, stop, please fucking stop_ — “We’re a bit busy right now, think you could come by later?” He asked, fluttering his eyelashes, biting his lip and winking Yuta’s way. Literally doing the absolute most (and worst) when no one had asked him to.

Sicheng’s eyes met his, and Yuta would have rather thrown himself in an electrical fence than see the disappointment in his eyes. It had taken him a second too long to figure out Taeil’s game, but as he was sprawled across the couch, his body tense, shirt messily buttoned and hair wild, he understood what Sicheng was seeing to look so disgusted at his friend: a hastily interrupted, fiery make-out session.

Sicheng looked down to his shoes, his expression becoming unreadable. “O— Okay. S— Sorry, I guess,” he stammered, backing away from the door.

The psycho had planned this all out. He had gotten to Yuta’s house early, assuring he wouldn’t be denied access. He had messed up the living room, distracting Yuta long enough for him to dress up accordingly. And he had altered Yuta’s appearance the way he wanted, making him look like the perfect fool in front of the love of his life. The love of his life, who was walking away from him, his feet echoing through the cold midnight air, getting farther and farther away. The love of his life.

Yuta jumped to his feet, bolting toward Taeil and grabbing him by the collar, making him lose balance. _Good_. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Taeil?” He growled, seeing nothing but red. He had never been so angry before, and as much as it scared him, it only fueled the fire inside him, his hands moving closer to the man’s neck, ready to strike if necessary. “What’s your _fucking_ problem?”

Taeil had the nerve to smirk. Then, a chuckle, poking his tongue inside his cheek and tilting his head. “You better run, loverboy,” he whispered, raising an eyebrow, “before he slips away for good.”

The sound of Sicheng’s feet against the ground was becoming fainter, the world outside almost silent. He dropped the man back to the ground, Taeil stumbling in his spot, but Yuta couldn’t find it in himself to care, bolting out of the house without sparing a look back.

He had to fix things. He couldn’t, in his right mind, let Sicheng leave without explaining the situation, rectifying this dumb mistake. Let him believe Yuta had stopped waiting for him, after all this time, when Yuta would never, ever give up on Sicheng the way it had looked like tonight. His heart belonged to him only, and if he needed to shout it in the streets at night, wake up the entire city to confess his love the proper way, he would.

Yuta could barely make out his silhouette in the dark, but it was undeniably him, hoodie over his head, hand buried in his pockets, walking away. “Sicheng!” He shouted, sprinting towards him. Sicheng didn’t look back at the sound of his name, ignoring Yuta’s pleas. “Sicheng!” He tried again, more demanding this time, but the other boy didn’t seem to care enough to turn back. Just the way Yuta had left Taeil. The comparison gave him goosebumps; the younger didn’t think he was this insufferable, now, did he?

Yuta was able to catch up, grabbing Sicheng’s wrist and making him turn around, force the confrontation that shouldn’t have happened, but needed to be fixed. And boy, did Sicheng look beyond pissed.

“What now, Yuta?” His gaze was enough for Yuta to let go of his wrist. In the faint light of the night, shadows carving his face, the younger seemed more imposing than ever, like anything Yuta could say wouldn’t have the power to change his mind. “Aren’t you supposed to be busy?” He spat with his eyes, sharp edges of glass lodging in Yuta’s chest.

The latter gulped, looking down in shame. This was the most embarrassing thing that had happened to him here, and nothing had even happened, _nothing_! “Look, this isn’t what you think it is. Let me explain—”

“Why would you need to explain anything?” Sicheng cut off, a deep frown twisting his features. “This isn’t my business. I don’t…” He stopped mid sentence, catching his breath and looking away. Yuta’s heart skipped a beat, bracing himself for the worst. “I don’t care who you fuck around with.”

It could have been worse, and Yuta was relieved when his sentence didn’t end with ‘ _love you_ ’, but it sure didn’t feel any better to hear. Especially since the only one he wanted to be around was the same one accusing him. “I’m telling you, it’s not what it looks like—”

Sicheng scoffed, and Yuta’s words got stuck in his throat. “Sure, like your shirt isn’t selling away the whole story,” he pointed out. Yuta covered the top of his shirt with his hand, realizing a little too late how incriminating the gesture looked like. He was an idiot. Oh, _fuck_ , and Taeil calling him ‘ _baby_ ’ loud enough for someone on the outside to hear—

“You know,” Sicheng continued, “you’re free to live your life and not involve me with it, not tell me everything. But don’t lie to me about it. I’m not dumb.” He sighed, his turn to look away now. The echo of his voice had gotten smaller, Yuta noticed. Yuta always noticed, when it came to Sicheng, and he could tell they were slipping into dangerous waters. “I thought you of all people would know by now.” He added, barely a whisper. Enough for something inside Yuta to break.

It was his fault. He should have kicked Taeil out when he had the chance, fuck. He never wanted Sicheng to suffer, yet here they were, in the middle of the night, fighting to mend an already weakening friendship because of him, his dumb fucking mouth, his dumb fucking brain. “I would never lie to you,” Yuta assured, taking a step forward. Sicheng didn’t bulge. “I’m not with Taeil. I’m not with anyone. Believe me, Sicheng,” he pleaded, looking at Sicheng right in the eyes. If only he would look back to see the sincerity they held. Yuta wouldn’t lie to him, not about something so important.

Sicheng’s eyes trailed off behind him. Yuta waited for him to say something, confirm he believed him or deny it, anything. But nothing came, and Yuta couldn’t bear the silence crushing his hopes even more than his own mind. “Where were you, tonight?” Yuta cleared the air with a simpler statement, one holding less gravity. _I missed you_ , he wanted to add, but figured the wound might have been too fresh to start semi-flirting with his pissed-off best friend.

At last Sicheng looked at him. His eyes didn’t carry the inviting, warm aura they usually held, but it was a start. “Changing the subject much? Real subtle, Nakamoto,” he snickered, and Yuta couldn’t tell if Sicheng was annoyed the way a friend would at another’s antics, or the way a person would knock a stranger’s teeth if they didn’t stop talking. Damn hoodie hiding his facial expressions.

“I was with Yukhei,” Sicheng answered anyway. “He’s heartbroken and I couldn’t leave him alone in that state.” Yuta didn’t deserve Sicheng; while he thought the boy had ditched him for no reason, he was away helping out a friend in need. His kind soul was no match for Yuta’s selfish ass, wanting him all to himself. “But I bet you didn’t know about us being friends, or his break-up, because when things don’t revolve around you, you stop giving a shit all of the sudden.”

Alright, Sicheng was still pretty fucking mad, and Yuta was far from being forgiven. Behind them, Yuta could hear thunder growling – wasn’t Rain Week supposed to be over? “Please, I’m sorry,” he apologised, taking one more step towards him. “I don’t want you to be upset. There is an explanation, if you let me—”

Sicheng stepped back, shaking his head. “Why would I be upset?” He snapped, brows furrowed. _Aren’t you?_ Yuta almost snarled back. “Why would you think I’d be upset?” He added, urgency lacing his words, the echo different from all the others; the emotion it held had shifted. He looked down, taking another step back. And another. Then, he gulped, his eyes never leaving the ground. Yuta felt a raindrop hit his shoulder. “It’s not like you’re mine,” Sicheng muttered, but the older heard him loud and clear.

 _It’s not like you’re mine_. Yuta wasn’t imagining things; that was an opening, right? A occasion to spill out everything he had on his mind since that day he had given Sicheng the Sun. An opportunity to stop the neverending game of _will-they-won’t-they_ everyone around them had going on. A chance to ask him to be his.

Except Sicheng knew Yuta loved him. He knew exactly how much Yuta loved him. Yuta could see it in his eyes, when they were close enough, how it seemed to scare him at times and comfort him during others. Every inch of Yuta screamed love towards him. Sicheng knew Yuta loved him, because there was no way he couldn’t know, not after all this time; as for Yuta, he couldn’t tell if they were friends, on some days.

And Yuta needed to know. He was dying to know, and this window would give him exactly what he wanted; a definitive answer. Sicheng’s answer to all the times Yuta had silently asked him to be his. It was Sicheng’s turn to confess, for all those times Yuta had let him know, and he had brushed it off in return.

Yuta took a step forward, grabbing both of Sicheng’s wrists, sliding down to hold his hands. “But you know you could be. Right?” Yuta shuddered, both caused by the icy rain dropping on his shoulders and the bravery it had taken to put the thought out there. And now, the impending terror of knowing the truth. “You just have to say the words,” he whispered, and in another daring attempt, he pressed their foreheads together. He was drenched now, the rain turning into a full-on storm, but with Sicheng’s Sun-kissed hands in his, he felt warm. “Say the words, and I’m yours.”

 _I love you I love you I love you_ , his head kept pounding, as if he could transfer the message without having to say it. He looked down every feature of Sicheng’s delicate face, from the bridge of his nose to the shape of his eyes, his long lashes and the way his lip was wobbling under the moonlight. He was so fucking pretty, it was making Yuta go crazy.

Like that time they thought it would be funny to change the day into night while drunk on convenience store wine and Yuta was so out of his mind, he hadn’t even noticed his mouth against Sicheng’s until the younger put his hands in Yuta’s hair and kissed him back. That time when Yuta had opened his eyes in shock in the middle of a kiss he never thought would come to see the boy he loved much closer than ever before, so fucking beautiful that he had to mutter against his skin how crazy he was for him, all night long, drunk on the light of the stars above, drunk on Sicheng, drunk in love. That time they had never spoken of again, because they were Sicheng and Yuta, and Sicheng and Yuta were nothing more than fools.

His heart stopped as Sicheng let go of his trembling hands and took yet another step back, shaking his head again. Yuta’s mind might have been playing tricks, but he swore he could see him tearing up from a distance. It might have been rain in his eyes. _Please let it be rain in his eyes._

“Good night, Yuta,” the boy’s echo faltering as he backed away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Yuta didn’t follow. He didn’t call for his name. He watched as his silhouette was engulfed by the dark, left alone on the coldest night, drenched in the pouring rain. He stayed still, feet anchored to the ground, unable to move as the water reflected his state of mind, an endless tsunami of feelings strangling him from the inside.

Sicheng had answered. Yuta should have never asked. But it was too late, irreversible. Whatever spark of a future they had, the hope Yuta clung onto, they were gone, dissolved in his bloodstream as his heart was left bleeding out. Sicheng had answered: he didn’t want anything to do with him, and rather pretend it never happened.

Had Yuta been too naïve? Read too much into things that shouldn’t have mattered? He thought – no, he _believed_ – he would have had a chance, at least a small one, but _something_ nonetheless. He thought Sicheng had been wanting more too, from the way he was phrasing his words, to the way he had been looking at him, on cherished days well stored in Yuta’s memories. The way Sicheng had kissed him back with as much passion as Yuta held towards him. Had he been blinded by love, seeing what he wanted to see, disregarding the truth? Or was there something Yuta hadn’t caught on yet, standing in the way of their happy ending?

Fuck, he was so caught up in his love for him, he hadn’t considered what he would do if it all came crashing down. Which was now a very real, unavoidable possibility.

Without Sicheng, Yuta remained a whole individual. He had charisma, quirks, people he might be able to call friends, and a past, present and future belonging to him only. He was Yuta, Keeper of the Night, member of the Council, foreigner, the only pink dot inside Johnny’s mind, a collected person liked by most. He was his whole character, his memories, his feelings. So why did it feel like he was nothing, if not with him?

Was Sicheng afraid? Of what, Yuta? His own feelings? Scratch that, he probably didn’t have any. Sicheng must have never liked him that way, if it was so easy to turn him down almost everyday. And if even he had had feelings after all, they must have been crushed by the asshole greeting him at the door.

Fucking Taeil. He was going down.

Sheer hatred brought him back to Earth, his feet guiding him to his residence without thinking. It might have been pitch black outside, but rage was a surprisingly accurate compass, especially in times of need, and so was the desire to knock a particular individual six feet under. Maybe not resort to murder, but Yuta still made a quick mind inventory of where he kept his knives at home. Couldn’t be too careful.

The door was still wide open from when he had run out, water making puddles under the threshold. Either Taeil had left with no sense of decency urging him to close the door, or he was still inside, waiting for Yuta to come back for some reason, _and_ had also been lacking decency as the rain started pouring down on Neo and inside his house.

Unfortunately, Taeil was still there, having taken the liberty of sitting down in the dining room. He could have cleaned up his mess, but no, because why would he be considerate after tearing apart everything Yuta had ever worked for?

Taeil stood up as he saw Yuta get in, the ghost of a smile on his lips twisting into a deep frown at the sight of his fury. Pretending to care? Low fucking move, coming from him of all people. “Wait, you— he didn’t—”

“Go the fuck away,” Yuta growled, trying his hardest not to jump him and break his jaw. Ugh, he wanted it so bad. If Taeil wasn’t gone in two minutes, he would definitely strike. “Get the _fuck_ out of my house,” he emphasized, getting closer to the man, making sure he could see the fire, the anger in his eyes.

Taeil raised his hands in surrender, making a move for the door. Yuta was dumbstruck; he didn’t think he would actually listen, for once. “I’m not the bad guy in this story, Nakamoto,” Taeil defended himself, his eyes widening as if pretending to look sincere. Yuta couldn’t help but scoff. “Believe me.”

“Don’t call me that, asshole.” No, Taeil wasn’t the bad guy; he was the ultimate villain, wreaking havoc wherever he went, and Yuta would never fall for any of his words ever again. Once was more than enough to last a lifetime.

Taeil was standing in the doorway now, but he wouldn’t step out of the house just yet. The power of his annoyance was astonishing; what the fuck was he waiting for? A broken nose? Black eye? Yuta could make do. “Do you know what my name is, Yuta?” Taeil asked, cocking his head, leaning on the doorframe.

As if Yuta could give a single fuck right now, about him, about anything. “No, and I don’t care. Leave.”

But Taeil didn’t move, ever the worst (uninvited) guest, and possibly human alive. “It’s Moon,” he informed the host, who remained unequivocally mad, if not worse. If it piqued his interest in the slightest, he didn’t make a sign to show it; Yuta would never give Taeil any satisfaction whatsoever. “You know the Moon, right? You look out for the Moon. And so, the Moon will look out for you too.”

“Get out!” Yuta yelled, striding towards him, his feet hitting the floor harder than necessary. Enough of the bullshit. What would he even be meaning by that? Taeil was looking out for him? Lies, lies, all the words coming out of his mouth worth no more than garbage. “Get out, before I do something I won’t regret.” Yuta wouldn’t be surprised if smoke was coming out of his ears, for he wasn’t mad, but fuming right now.

With one last breath, a blink, and averted eyes, Taeil finally left the premises. Behind him, he closed the door, light, careful, the only positive thing that had happened throughout what could be a potential candidate to the worst day of his life.

Having the last word had never felt so unfulfilling. Thunder was raging outside, as well as inside Yuta, lightning bolts at the tip of his shaky fingers. Untamed energy, raw in its purest form, alongside an emptiness wider than ever, consuming his every thought. The anger fighting against his sadness, afraid he’d be swallowed whole by either, or perhaps both.

Could there be a different result to all this anguish, this hopelessness? Because he had lost all he had been holding on to, and it could only mean he was falling, endlessly falling, with no one to pick him back up. “Oh, Sicheng,” he muttered, his eyes welling with tears, falling to his knees. Without Sicheng, it was true he remained whole; full of love he couldn’t give away, consuming his every thought, wrecking his every nerve, destroying him piece by piece. “What am I going to do?”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn taeil! u didnt need to snap this hard
> 
> when i was first planning the story back in may, this was the chapter i was most excited about writing. the strength of yuta's devotion. the insecurity in sicheng. the mindfuck that is, was, and will be taeil's character. (dont hate on my boy tho he's got his reasons...)
> 
> i feel bad for the people reading these chapters in a streak im so sorry for the emotional toll of the last three (four?) chapters. i PROMISE next one will be happier
> 
> also, im curious!! who's your favourite pairing so far? let me know why!!


	11. KUN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kun understands all those things left unsaid in the silence of a smile.

**xi**. KUN

 

Kun had never believed in magic. He had never believed in anything out of the ordinary – but of course, it was before the day he got lost trying to find his way back home and ended up in the land of impossibilities, of all places. He had never believed in ghosts, aliens, supernatural forces, abilities beyond human reach, those fairytales Renjun kept blabbering on about. Before Neo, Kun believed in all things logical. That, he remembered.

He remembered how he came to find this place, too; one of the few things that stuck with him, a memory he held on to with all his might. He had just wanted to take a walk, clear out his head for a while before diving back into his work, but what lay on the horizon didn’t look like anything close to home. And as soon as he turned around, the landscape behind him had become a desolated planet, all things gray and unwelcoming, unlike the orange hues of the autumn countryside he thought he was in. Not anymore, apparently; on the horizon stood a city surrounded by gray, and with no other destination, or no other choice, he kept walking.

This was Kun’s first interaction with magic, or Neo’s very own degree of illusionism. Because Neo had far from a textbook definition of the word, miles away from what Kun had always heard. It wasn’t teleportation or invisibility, or any other superhuman tricks or the kind. It wasn’t either like that book he couldn’t remember the name of, the magical school and other unrealistic expectations. What Neo had in store for its citizens, it couldn’t come out of any book, any fantasy. Neo was its own magic, and nothing could compare to it.

It had been amusing to see at first, the shrinking Moon, the appearing food, the buildings growing back after intense fire damage, all those quirks Neo would throw upon them like fun little gifts any other city could only dream of offering. It was charming, in a way, and part of the reason Kun had decided to stay. But it became far less funny when he found out that he, too, had received one of Neo’s gifts.

He could barely notice it, at first. The kids asking to the sky when the next snowfall would grace the Earth, and the answer appearing to his mind. Odd coincidences, or lucky guesses. But too many correct guesses got people talking, and before he knew it, he was the weatherman. Then, as some asked hypothetical questions about themselves around him on purpose, Kun was frightened to find out he had those answers, too. Like a bubble blowing up inside him and delivering words that shouldn’t have been there, had he been like any other normal citizen. Whatever normal meant, here.

It took some time, but Kun got used to it. After all, it wasn’t like he could get rid of it. Sure, with his newfound ability he came to doubt everyone’s true intentions whenever they came up to him for help, but Kun wasn’t one to say no to those in need. What if he had misjudged them, and they were facing real problems? He couldn’t leave them hanging just because he was scared they’d turn out to take advantage of him. What would that make of him, then? No better than them.

He learned to live with it, to the point where he could start to see the fun in it. It made people smile, those harmless little predictions. It made him happy, to some extent, like when Chenle would take cards out of the pack Kun carried around and the older would guess correctly every single time, making the younger burst in laughter. Or when Renjun would come to him after Jaehyun burned down yet another precious tree, and Kun reassured him nothing bad would happen to them as long as the boy were here. Or when Yukhei kept asking him if this time was the one, and Kun would always answer ‘ _no, today isn’t the day you finish that kickflip without falling to the ground_ ’, and Yukhei would ignore him and fall face first into the sidewalk.

He learned all about those small moments of magic inside everyday occurrences, and it helped heal the tiny wounds caused by the doubt – and sometimes, reality – of being used for what he wasn’t. These moments weren’t always spectacular; two friends bickering about a pointless anecdote neither could recall, sunshine piercing through the forest after a rainy week, or someone picking out flowers by the side of the road for a person they cared about. They weren’t spectacular, but they held meaning, which was far more magical than anything Kun could do. And so, he grew to learn all about the magic inside people, until he could see magic everywhere and in anyone, but especially in Taeyong’s smile.

 _Yes_ , it was cheesy to say, more than he could admit, but it was also the truth, plain and simple. Taeyong didn’t smile very often, but slowly, Kun was finding out ways to make him shine through the dark clouds he carried over him. Showing him new cards tricks, inviting him to lunch outside City Hall, talking about books, movies, all those Not-Neo things he could remember, stories Taeyong was hearing for the first time with childlike wonder in his eyes. And it was worth it, every single time.

It was a very tentative friendship, both taking baby steps in order not to scare the other off. Kun especially, since he knew the other man didn’t have anyone to fall back onto, if whatever they had were to crash and burn. Kun couldn’t let him down, and so he remained careful not to be overwhelming. He would have liked spending more time with Taeyong, but then again, he couldn’t come off too strong, or the older would only end up detaching himself, going back to his old ways.

At least they had something in common; the fear of getting stabbed in the back. A rational fear, for it had happened to them both, experienced different ways. Taeyong, scarred by his best friend breaking their most vital promise, and Kun, cursed to never figure out who his real friends were. A strange duo, but somehow, someway, it worked wonders. Must have been magic.

“You did what?” Ten exclaimed, eyes widening under his specs already bumping up their size. Kun would have found the image pretty funny, had he not been intrigued by his friend taking offense in what Kun had assumed to be a most ordinary statement. It couldn’t be that he had misheard, as Ten wasn’t hard of hearing; the man was known around Neo for listening to every whisper, collecting information with the strangest strategies. Some people called it gossip, but Ten preferred calling this interest ‘ _having his priorities straight_ ’.

“I invited Taeyong to join us,” Kun repeated, spacing out his words to make sure his friend had understood without a shadow of doubt. Like talking to a baby, because he was definitely whining like one. “He should be here soon, and then we can go.”

“Yeah, we heard you right the first time,” Doyoung frowned from Kun’s left, scratching the back of his neck. Both men seemed unpleased, and Kun was starting to wonder if he had done something wrong. Unless— “He was giving you a chance to change your answer.”

Oh. _Oh_. Okay. Their intentions were getting clearer now. “Changing my answer wouldn’t make him not come, it would only make me a liar,” Kun argued, getting defensive. This was unusual of his friends. What did they have against Taeyong, anyway? The guy rarely interacted with anyone, holed up in his house away from the world most of his days. This was prejudice, coming from the supposed nice, unproblematic people of Neo, and nothing based on facts. Either way, Taeyong didn’t deserve to be pushed away like this, before having the chance to prove himself. “Because he is coming, whether you like it or not.”

“But why would you do that?” Ten complained, running a hand through his hair. They were acting all stressed out, as if Kun had announced the day the world would end. “I know you guys are friends, for some reason,” he continued, waving his hands around as he spoke, dismissive gestures making Kun frown, “but we aren’t, and don’t intend to be.”

“Why are you being like this?” Kun had to ask, crossing his arms over his chest. They were being disrespectful, and if they kept being this vocal about their blatant hatred of Taeyong, Kun might lose his new friend’s trust for good. Or even worse, break his ability to trust anyone forever. Neither could happen. “It’s Taeyong. Not a child-eating monster.”

Doyoung scoffed, and Kun was starting to wonder if he, too, had put his trust in the hands of the wrong people. “Taeyong who believes I stole his brother, and that Ten stole his boyfriend’s spot in Neo. Yeah, we should have fun,” he deadpanned, sharing a complicit look with Ten, who nodded along these accusations.

Kun was baffled. He hadn’t expected these two to be so unphased by trash talking someone they didn’t know, handing in no proof whatsoever while giving reasoning to their own trashy behaviour. They truly differed from the sweet Neo persona they tried to project onto the rest of the citizens, but alas, Kun knew it didn’t mean anything. How much can one know a person, after all? He hadn’t even known Taeyong had a brother until now, and much less the fact Hansol had been far more than a friend.

Taeyong must have had his reasons for not saying anything, he thought. They hadn’t known each other for long, and Kun hadn’t told him everything about himself either – although there wasn’t much to tell in his case, a boring life apart from the abilities he had been granted. Taeyong had as much of a right to keep these things to himself, if he desired. And Kun wasn’t taken aback by the brother revelation anyway; it was the second part that stung a little more.

Hansol had been his friend since his arrival in Neo, and hadn’t thought to mention it once. Now Taeyong was his friend, one thing in common being said disappearing boy, and he hadn’t said anything about it either. Had the two been an item, a couple? Had Taeyong loved him? Did he love him still? And here Kun thought they were going to the same grieving, a friend lost to a sea of gray, when what Taeyong had lost was the hardest thing to let go of.

Okay, maybe this was going to be a rough day.

He swallowed his pride; now wasn’t the time to question yet another fragile friendship. “Did he say this to either of you?” Kun asked, raising an eyebrow. No, now was the time to defend someone he trusted. Which was more than he could say about these two. “Or are you pulling these so-called ‘ _facts_ ’ out of your ass, Doyoung?”

Doyoung was about to protest, but Ten interjected, stepping between the two of them before the situation could turn any more sour. “We have reasons to believe so, even if he hasn’t said anything, Kun. Like, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him _look_ at me. That says a lot more than words could,” Ten clarified, and Kun could tell he was genuine; it wasn’t about hate, but rather judgement, coming from both sides. At least Ten seemed to be trying; that was more than Kun could say about Doyoung. “But we’ll be civilised, because we’re not assholes. Well, I’m not. Can’t say much for this one,” he added, pointing behind him and throwing Kun a slight smirk.

“Will you both shut it— Oh,” Doyoung interrupted himself, looking over past Kun’s shoulder and frowning. This could only mean one thing, and as Kun turned on his heels, he was met with yet another frowning face. If only everyone could get along, for a day…

This was going to be harder than he thought. Damn it, Doyoung. “Hey, Taeyong,” Kun greeted his friend with a small wave, smiling wide. If no one else would make the boy feel welcome, he’d have to double his efforts. Not that it would be much of a burden – it was Taeyong, after all –, but he couldn’t afford to mess up – it was _Taeyong_ , after all.

The newcomer tried smiling back, but it didn’t last long enough for anyone other than Kun to notice. “Hey,” Taeyong replied, glancing to the two men behind in apprehension. It seemed he had something else to say, but he looked down instead, burying his hands deeps inside his leather jacket.

The air around grew tense, threatening to suffocate them all if none dared break the silence. Taeyong was visibly uncomfortable being put on the spot like this, Kun was in the middle of questioning every single decision he had ever made leading up to this event, and the two idiots behind him had decided to be useless the one day Kun needed the friendliest interactions possible. Great.

“Well then, let’s get this over with, shall we?” Doyoung braved the storm, bringing them back to reality. Taeyong looked up, meeting Kun’s eyes. “Before Donghyuck drags us all the way there,” he mumbled the last part, but the threat was enough for all of them to get moving.

Ten and Doyoung took the lead, engaged in a discussion Kun couldn’t care less about. He was more worried about the boy walking next to him, completely silent ever since they had left City Center, kicking rocks as they walked down the road to Mark’s house. Kun thought of asking what was wrong, the right words forming at the tip of his tongue and dying out as soon as he opened his mouth, but considering the reason was most probably him, he shut his lips tight.

About half of the way over, Taeyong finally spoke up. “You didn’t tell me there’d be other people,” he muttered, eyes never leaving the road before them. His shoulders seemed tense, and from the side, he could notice how Taeyong’s hand inside his jacket was balled up into a fist.

Truth be told, Kun hadn’t thought this through very well. Hadn’t considered Taeyong’s feelings despite knowing they were unpredictable even on better days. He had brought this on himself, and the only way to make it right was honesty, as simple as that. “It’s only me and you, every day. I thought we could use the company,” he explained, Taeyong’s body language remaining as strained. Kun looked down as well. “Change things up a little. Or else you’ll get sick of me, remember?”

“Not true.” There was something special he liked that about Taeyong and him: the unspoken deal between them to remain truthful, raw with each other, sincerity over every other virtue. What they told the other, they meant, even when things were hard to say, harder to swallow. Taeyong must have meant that, too. “I… might have liked a heads-up, that’s all,” Taeyong shrugged, and from the corner of his eye, Kun could tell he was easing up a little. All Taeyong had needed to achieve that state was to let someone know. Something anyone could have done.

Something only Kun did. “Would you have come?” Kun wondered out loud. He could tell Taeyong’s eyes were on him now; his stare was one of a kind, soul-piercing, dark, but not the pitch black kind. A deep gray, lightening up with the passing of days. Cloudy skies in November, and with its wind blowing through his hair, Kun could tell he was at the center of it. “If I had told you beforehand?”

The breeze stopped, and although its frost had left as well, Kun could feel chills in his bones. “I… haven’t been honest with you, Kun,” the older said, and Kun followed his gaze fixed on Doyoung and Ten, walking without a care of what laid behind. Taeyong’s hands unclenched in his pockets, looking away from the pair with an expression Kun couldn’t quite read yet. He would, one day, when he’d unlock that part of Taeyong’s story. Until then, he’d have to try to understand.

Taeyong took a deep breath, the Hansol kind of exhale. Yeah, Kun could tell his breathing apart, too. Kun could tell a lot from him, in such a short time. Even with the knowledge he still lacked, Kun knew Taeyong a whole lot more than any of the citizens did. “I was angry at him, you know? But he wasn’t here. He wasn’t… anywhere, actually,” Taeyong chuckled, full of dejection and heartache. A dying laugh lacking the joy, the sweetness. Kun didn’t love the sound of it. “This anger of mine, though, it was everywhere. And I let it spill out everywhere, too.”

Kun’s fingers twitched, as if searching for something to grasp and never let go. What, though, he didn’t know. When it came to himself, he couldn’t tell anything. “I lashed out,” Taeyong continued, laugh well buried six feet under. “On a lot of people. I hadn’t said anything to them, but I projected that anger over them, rather than him. I— I messed up,” he stumbled on his words, something so unlike him it sent shivers down Kun’s spine.

His hands twitched again. _Let us hold on to him_ , they whispered. Kun shut them up, hiding them behind his back, letting the man finish his story instead. It was Taeyong he should listen to; no other voice mattered, when one was pouring his heart out. Not even his own. “If no one dared talk to me before, no one tries now,” Taeyong gulped, looking up. The sky was a little cloudy; not enough for it to turn gray, but not enough to gaze at the clear blue it hid behind. “So yeah, I guess I’m a little nervous.”

Kun was about to say something, apologise for not finding and helping him sooner, but Taeyong beat him to the game. “I know you want to say you’re sorry, but you have nothing to be sorry for. You couldn’t know.” If Kun could read so well between the lines of Taeyong’s mystery, so could Taeyong, looking further than the horizon Kun appeared to be. “And I should know better by now; I can’t expect to better myself without fixing anything.”

A smile spread on Kun’s lips without even realising it did; he was happy to hear him say it, he truly was. Acceptance of obliviousness was necessary to grow, and Taeyong had gotten to that fateful step. Kun was happy, but really, he was proud of his friend. “You have me now, you know that, right?” Kun bumped into Taeyong’s shoulders with his own, the little push taking the older by surprise, his eyes widening at the gesture before letting out a relieved sigh. “I can be with you every step of the way. I’ll help out anyway you need. Just ask.”

Taeyong tore his eyes off the sky, landing onto Kun. “Why couldn’t I have met you instead of him?” he muttered, shaking his head. Kun would have asked for clarification, but someone up ahead cleared their throat, bringing him back to the moment; they had reached their destination, Doyoung and Ten waiting on them by the door, still looking somewhat mad at the turnout. Mad enough for Kun to hit pause on their conversation, strutting up to them. His multiplying questions (and the possible tinge of hope that had found its way in) would have to remain unanswered. For now.

They heard rushing footsteps from inside the house, and Donghyuck opened the door, panting. He was wearing a shirt too large for his built, covered in green paint which had also found its way on his hair, pants and shoes. The brightness of his smile told Kun he didn’t mind this appearance in the slightest, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You guys are late, but I’m in a good mood so I’ll let it slide,” Donghyuck greeted the bunch, a confused frown taking place as he laid eyes on the unexpected member of their small crew. “Oh, hey Taeyong! Didn’t know you were coming. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Taeyong smiled at the younger boy, genuine, a spark in his eyes Kun had never seen him wear before. “Me either, little man. I was hibernating, you know,” Taeyong shrugged, the tension in his shoulders defusing at the movement. Donghyuck’s presence seemed to calm him down, the man becoming more comfortable with his surroundings. Then, he bumped his shoulder to Kun’s, throwing him a little side glance before finishing his thought to the host. “And this guy here thought it’d be funny to wake me up.”

Donghyuck’s eyes lit up. Childlike wonder was a great look on him, Kun thought. “I do know! Like a grizzly,” the boy exclaimed, showing off his knowledge of the world behind Neo’s grey walls. Kun hadn’t heard about animals in a while, and the thought made the corner of his lips raise up. “But don’t just stand there, come in!” Donghyuck stepped to the side, leaving room for them to enter the premises.

“He must have sniffed some of that paint fume to let us off the hook like that. Thank fuck,” Ten mumbled, prompting Kun to roll his eyes at his friend. Boy had no filter, and one day, it would come slap him into another dimension; Kun had already bought first-row tickets to that event, and so did half the town.

“Come on, he’s a sweet kid,” Kun defended the youngest, who (hopefully) hadn’t heard Ten’s malicious comment – Donghyuck could definitely be one to retaliate. “He’s going all in to surprise Mark, how cute is that?”

Ten shook his head, grabbing Kun’s shoulder. “Yeah, well, if this wasn’t about Mark, trust him to go full Hulk on our asses. We got lucky,” he continued, never knowing when to stop. Kun had to give Johnny credit for putting up with his overwhelming personality, but then again, the man must have liked it to some extent. He shook the thoughts away, choosing to focus on the younger’s instructions.

“—so I’m repainting his bedroom right now, but that’s a one-man job. I need help with unpacking some furniture for the living room and moving them around,” Donghyuck explained, waving around to the pile of various-sized boxes filling up the room. And there were a _lot_ of boxes.

“You’re asking us to do heavy lifting? Donghyuck, have you seen us?” Doyoung scowled, affronted. Once again, Kun rolled his eyes. They knew beforehand what they would need to do, the boy having explained all of this when he had first asked for their help; why whine about it now, Doyoung? “We’re bones on a stick. How can you expect us to do that?”

Donghyuck huffed. “You volunteered, Doyoung, because you can’t resist my charms. That’s not my fault. And don’t be mean, Taeyong is right there,” he pointed in the man’s direction, Doyoung putting on a frown. Kun turned around to look at his friend, only to find him turning his head away, hiding the shade of pink tinting his cheeks. He looked cute when he was embarrassed, even though Kun had no clue what the youngest was referring to. “Everything you’ll need should be set up, and I’ll be in the bedroom if there’s a problem. Thanks again!”

With a multitude of sighs coming from the brats Kun considered his friends (read: Doyoung and Ten), they walked up to the jungle of boxes, all piled up in towers threatening to lose balance any second. They started by clearing out the lighter ones, putting them in an adjacent room to leave space to unpack the bigger ones. Because there were a lot of huge boxes, and Kun was starting to wonder how many couches could Donghyuck have possibly ordered.

They divided themselves up, Kun and Taeyong opening a medium-sized box while Doyoung and Ten attacked a much bigger one. Their own box contained a pretty assortment of succulents, along with instruction pamphlets on how to care for them. Each pot had its own bright color, something only Donghyuck would have preferred. Had it been Kun making over the house, he would’ve gotten complimentary colours, or a monochrome palette. But to each their own. As long as Mark would be happy.

Careful, Taeyong took one of the succulents out, the pot a lively orange. A tiny blue flower sprung out of the green leaves, which he touched with the tip of his finger, careful not to startle the plant. His wide eyes reflected the light coming from outside the window, and the blue tint of the flower was reflected in the sparks it had created. Taeyong muttered a barely audible ‘ _cute_ ’, and Kun couldn’t help but agree.

The contents of the other box didn’t seem to bring as much joy to the other duo as the potted plants did, Doyoung letting out a long groan as they ripped the brown carton open and discovered what lay inside.

“This is supposed to be a table,” Doyoung remarked, annoyance laced in his voice. Then again, when was it not. “So can anyone tell me why are there so many pieces?” He got out of the box a plastic bag filled with screws, followed by another containing one of said table’s legs. And a couple more other bags to follow, their corner soon becoming a plastic mess. Thinking of the clean up afterwards was enough to get a whine out of Kun, too.

Ten gasped as Doyoung laid the pieces on the floor, his eyes searching for Kun across the room. “It’s like that store. Kun, you know that store?” He asked, his tone hopeful. “You know, _the_ store?”

Kun did not, in fact, know the store Ten was referring to, and it was with a heavy heart he had to burst his bubble. “Would you mind being a little more specific?” Kun requested, an apologetic grin on his face.

“I’m trying,” Ten grunted, closing his eyes and putting his fingers to his temples in an attempt to better focus. The gesture was pointless, as memories taken away wouldn’t come back no matter the way they’d try to force them out. Kun knew it for a fact. “Fuck, I can’t remember the name. But it had all these other weird names. Like _Ypperlig_.”

Next to him, Taeyong let out a low chuckle at the word, the sound incognito under Doyoung’s loud exasperation towards his partner. “How do you remember a word like that and forget the store’s name?” Doyoung yelped, using one of the table’s legs to pretend to hit Ten on the head.

“I don’t know, but I do know that this shit,” Ten said, grabbing the biggest piece left in the box and straining to get it out, “is fucking heavy. How did Donghyuck get all this here by himself?”

They unpacked a few more boxes, some of their findings falling between extremely unusual and perfectly boring. Each new opening lead to some more uncovering on how much Donghyuck cared for Mark in trinkets of their friendship none of them could understand. To completely remodel someone’s home in order to make them feel better was already a grand gesture of affection in itself; not just anyone was willing to do this for a friend, that is, if they weren’t a little more than friends.

Taeyong was showing him a collection of glittery coat hangers he had found in a box when Kun noticed Ten struggling in the background with one of the dreaded couches. Doyoung, having declared minutes earlier he had sudden muscle atrophy, refused to help out, opting to watch from afar as his friend sweated buckets to move the furniture by an inch.

Ten’s misery generated an idea into Kun’s head. “How about you go help him out?” He suggested, pointing his head towards the struggling man. Taeyong blinked, a frown taking place over his forehead in both confusion and apprehension. “According to Hyuck, you’re not a stack of bones like the rest of us.”

Taeyong scoffed, shaking his head with a shy smile as he recalled his earlier embarrassment. “Doesn’t mean I’m a muscle beast because I gave them piggyback rides when they were younger,” he shrugged, looking in Ten’s direction. “Little man always loved to exaggerate.”

Kun let out a deep breath, catching the other’s attention. Just like that, seriousness had taken over the mood, Kun looking into his eyes with a message he had heard before. “Still, Taeyong.” They both knew what he was about to say next, but he voiced it out anyway. “It’s the perfect opportunity.”

 _Make conversation. Make friends. Prove them you’re not who they say you are_ , his eyes said, hoping to reach the part of Taeyong that knew Kun the same way Kun knew him. That special, impromptu connection between them, he’d use it to no end, if the final result was his friend finally being happy with himself and who the world saw him as. There would be no greater accomplishment, in Kun’s eyes; and if it had to start with a push in the right direction, Kun wouldn’t hesitate to launch him forward.

Taeyong sighed, but the smirk growing on his lips held no bite. “If he kicks me in the face, I’m taking revenge on you,” he threatened, walking over to the other side of the room where Ten threw Doyoung faces that could easily translate into ‘ _I will murder you once I get my hands off this thing_ ’.

As he watched Taeyong grab the other side of the couch and take the lead, counting up to three before helping Ten lift up the heavy piece, Doyoung made his way next to him. Kun would have guessed he was hiding from Ten’s impending wrath, but as Doyoung spoke up, the theory was confirmed hoax.

“Alright now, spill it, Kun,” Doyoung started, sitting on the floor and opening yet another box. At the speed they were going, they would still be here in the morning. “Why did you invite him here? And don’t say ‘ _because he’s my friend_ ’,” he said, using air quotes. Could never stop being dramatic, could he? “That’s an excuse for babies, and people avoiding the truth.”

Kun sat down next to him, taking out the contents of Doyoung’s box for him. “He _is_ my friend,” he retorted, giving Doyoung a frown which the man reciprocated. _Fine_. “But he could use some more friends too. He just needs the push, a little help talking to other people. That’s where I come in.”

Doyoung hummed, taking in his answer. Kun knew he wasn’t off the hook yet; the man might have been annoying to no end, but there was no denying he was perceptive. “I don’t remember you being this… helpful with, let’s say, Yukhei,” Doyoung remarked, trying to come off as nonchalant, although his statement was nothing short of calculated.

Kun didn’t like where this was going. “Because… it’s different,” he answered, cutting his answer short. Not only were Kun and Yukhei a lot less close, the younger dealing with his own feelings without wanting to involve Kun, they didn’t have that same old heartache tying them together. It was nothing like Taeyong’s case. But of course Doyoung wouldn’t know that; he didn’t care enough for either of them anyway.

“How?” Doyoung kept pushing, Kun’s patience thinning. What had he done to deserve such unpleasantness from his behalf today? And why couldn’t he _shut up_? “Aren’t they both your friends? Both in need of... social abilities, let’s say? Seems eerily similar to me.”

Doyoung was an asshole. Underneath his little ‘ _I love children_ ’ facade, he was as much of a douche as his boyfriend, taking no consideration for others’ feelings if they happened to be older than eighteen. Yukhei’s fears, Taeyong’s past, he put them under the same label of the angry guys of Neo, and not like two completely different people with their own different problems. Funny how his own boyfriend would fit right in the same box, but his hypocrisy excluded Jaehyun from that narrative. Kun couldn’t stand him that part of him, his need to always be right all the time. It was getting on his nerves.

Kun slid away from Doyoung, using the pretext of opening another box. He wasn’t up for arguing with a brick wall. “Yeah, but Yukhei doesn’t need help from _me_ ,” he insisted, hoping to shut the case closed. “I’m not the right person.”

His mistake was expecting this to be over with. “And who is? Jungwoo?” Doyoung tilted his head, a sly smirk making its way up on his face. Kun connected the dots quick enough, and he could anticipate the man’s next move already. A question he had asked himself before, but didn’t want to hear: _how come you’d be the right one for Taeyong, then?_

“Would you stop trying to trick me?” Kun snapped, a little louder than anticipated. He threw a quick glance Taeyong’s way, but the two others hadn’t noticed the sudden disruption, still trying to arrange the couch around the box-filled room. “It’s not like that. Leave it.”

But this was Doyoung, and he loved getting what he wanted. And right now, what he wanted was for Kun to admit something that wasn’t true. It wasn’t like that. “It’s exactly like that, my dear,” Doyoung objected, the smirk in his voice a breaking point.

For the nth time already, Kun’s eyes rolled back. “Shut up already, Kim,” he muttered, loud enough for Doyoung’s ears only. For once in his life, Doyoung listened, going back to the semi-comfortable silence Kun had missed so much. He didn’t know how Jaehyun could tolerate his incessant babbling and whining all day. Then again, they were a match made in heaven; both assholes who believed they weren’t.

But now, Doyoung’s unsaid question wouldn’t leave his mind. _How come you’re the right one, Qian Kun? How come you, of all people, believe you’re the right person to help him find the way back?_ Kun’s eyes traveled back to Taeyong, sitting down on the couch next to Ten. They had grabbed the earlier box containing the pieces of a table, and were trying to decipher the instructions to build it together.

 _Because I believe in him_ , Kun replied. _Because I believe him_.

“You dance good,” Taeyong blurted out, the tip of his ears reddening at his own sudden confession. “Not that I, like, stalk you— uh, I have a good view of City Center from my room, and like, yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, refusing to look at the man sitting down next to him. It felt strange to see Taeyong so flustered; he rarely made mistakes in his speech, but there he was, stumbling over his words again, twice in a day. It was cute. Awkward, but cute. “I look out sometimes. You’re good.”

And Ten had thought the man had never once glanced his way. Proven wrong much? “Thank you,” Ten nodded, a chuckle escaping his lips. He hadn’t expected the compliment, and Kun smiled at Taeyong’s small accomplishment. “I liked that song you put on last week. Very energetic.”

It was Taeyong’s turn to be taken by surprise. “Oh. Thanks,” he laughed, easing up to their conversation a little. There was nothing to fear anymore, and Kun could feel him rejoice. “They don’t have titles, so I just put on what I can find. I don’t like all of them, but it’s better than nothing,” Taeyong elaborated, going into the oversharing phase he always had when he got more comfortable. Kun had been there, too. “When did you learn? Dance, I mean.”

“In the Not-Neo,” Ten replied, glancing at Taeyong from the corner of his eye. “When I was young. Spent my whole life learning, pretty much. I never got bored of it.”

Taeyong looked back at him for a second, then went back to his own work. “That’s cool. Dope. I wish I had talent like that.”

“Come down to City Center, sometime,” Ten suggested, shrugging. Taeyong froze, cracking up a smile, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. His eyes met Kun’s, and Kun wasn’t one to swear, but _fuck_ , he was cute. “Maybe I can help out with that.”

Kun must have been grinning like a fool, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was happy, so was Taeyong, and only those facts mattered. He tuned out of their conversation, content; Taeyong was getting there, and he couldn’t be more proud.

  
  


} {

  
  


Kun had to ask. He thought he’d be able to forget about it and sweep it under the rug, the past staying where it belonged, but the urge had become greater than him. And before he knew it, he had already stuttered out the words.

“Were you two… Did you…”

“No,” Taeyong answered straight away, as if he had read his mind. He must have, for understanding exactly what Kun had meant with a handful of words detached from their meaning. A special, impromptu connection, Kun recalled thinking. Growing in strength with each passing day. “And maybe. I don’t know,” he said, looking over at the gray area expanding before them. “Whatever it was, it died along with him.”

“Oh,” Kun let out. Relieved, maybe. He couldn’t tell. When it came to himself, he couldn’t tell anything. “Okay.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*were you two together? did you love him?)
> 
> 96 line is the best line you cant change my mind  
> is doyoung a legend? yes or yes!
> 
> thank you so much for the response on last chapter, i was so happy to see so many comments and what you think of your favourite characters!! im glad you all like it, lets keep having fun!!


	12. JISUNG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> of all the things jisung knows, none come close to what he wishes to understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> perhaps it would be wise to pay close attention to the timeline for the following chapters… just a suggestion! enjoy!

**xii**. JISUNG

 

The wind whistled between the buildings, so strong he feared they would fall right on him. The windows were shaking, enough for him to cover his face in case they would break and join him to the ground in a million pieces. Then, in the snap of a finger, the breeze died down, not a single trace of it left, except for Jisung’s disheveled hair reminding him that _yes, this did happen, you’re not dreaming_.

This was his first memory. Like he had been dropped from a claw machine, wiped clean of everything, right into a world displeased to see him coming, desperate to make him go back. But there was no such option, and all the boy was left with were waves of terror sending shivers through his spine. As the wind stopped, and the world got used to the tiny body of warmth dropped from the sky, Jisung looked up. The sky was gray. The exact middle between white and black; neither close to one or the other, but a perfect, ominous blend of nothingness.

He must have died, he thought. Died from where, exactly? He had no memories. Vague visions of forgotten dreams, blurred and unreachable, but nothing else. His name, Park Jisung. An approximate knowing of his age. The gut wrenching feeling he was in the wrong place. The ability to think, speak, and walk. Reflexes too, he found out, his heart pounding in his chest in high alert as a figure ran towards him, grabbed him by the arm and forced him to run along.

The man, older than he was, brought him outside the city, his grip on Jisung’s arm only tightening as they got further away. He wanted to protest, stop their course and free himself, ask what in the fuck was going on – and, while they were at it, who this guy was –, but there was something about this man, spreading from his finger into Jisung’s bones, and he couldn’t bring himself to question it. Running away from the dreadful city: that’s what they had to do.

They ran and ran, Jisung losing track (as well as the concept) of time the further they got. They had reached a field, the grass tall and yellow, and were heading towards a wide, dark forest when Jisung’s feet finally listened to his protests and stopped the both of them from going any farther. The forest was a no-go; he’d get lost if he went too far, his mom would say— his mom?

He had no mom. He had no past. No memories.

The stranger looked back at him, wiping away the tears streaming down Jisung’s cheeks with his thumb. When had he started crying? “It’s okay,” the man whispered, bending a little and cupping the boy’s face with his hand, the other reaching for Jisung’s. “Just a little more. You won’t get lost, I promise.”

Jisung nodded, catching his breath. The man gave his hand a little squeeze, and they began jogging again, the younger following him through the woods he had always been forbidden to explore. By always, he meant in dreams, he supposed. Reality had just started.

The trees’ thick leaves hid the faint light coming from behind the clouds, the ground they walked on even more sinister than Jisung would have imagined from afar. The stranger never let go of his hand, leading him through nature’s maze until they slowed down, coming to a stop in front of a little house. It had brick walls eroded by the wind, a wooden roof threatening to break down, windows tinted black; in short, an old abandoned cabin in the middle of the woods. Jisung’s dreams screamed for him to run, but he shook them away, following the older’s footsteps instead.

The inside was nothing like what could have been expected from the exterior facade. The house was well-furnished, no dust accumulating in the corners or spiders hanging from the ceiling, and as soon as Jisung’s eyes set on the fireplace, flames sparked up from the pile of wood. The sudden heat caught his attention, racing closer and kneeling down to get rid of the goosebumps on his skin.

The man closed the door behind them, the sound bringing Jisung back to the reality of their situation. He might not have known anything about the world, his memories having started minutes ago, but he could tell this was unusual. Something was terribly wrong, and somehow, they were both at the center of it.

Jisung sat down, the fire warming up his back as he faced the stranger, wondering where to start. “Where are we? Who are you? What happened? Why did you take me here? Are we dead? Is this a dream? What are we supposed to do?”

“Whoa, one at a time, kid,” the man raised his hands in surrender, taking place in an armchair by the door. Jisung couldn’t tell if the man was angry, confused, trying to hide a smile or completely unaffected; it was as if his face was once more a dream Jisung confused with reality. “Start again,” he motioned, giving the boy a nod in his direction.

The younger gulped, gathering his thoughts. He wanted to understand everything already; why couldn’t the older read his mind? He was about to ask all of them again, hoping the man would remember the order better and reply accordingly, but Jisung revised himself. “Where am I?”

The stranger sighed, letting himself fall back in his chair. “My guess? We aren’t anywhere,” he speculated, a frown taking place on Jisung’s face. Either this guy was crazy, or he was right – and if this was the case, they were in deep shit. “But if I read the sign correctly, welcome to Neo City.”

  
  


} {

  
  


“Something’s on your mind,” Jungwoo observed from the couch, bringing him back to reality, some time later in the same old cabin. A lot, a whole lot of time later, enough for Jisung to forget how to count it. Enough for him to grow tall, make friends, walk the woods without fear, roam through the windy city without getting cold. Enough to make memories of his own, and create newer worries rooted in what was to come, rather than what he couldn’t recall.

There was a lot on Jisung’s mind. Since he had stepped foot in this place, he had never gotten a breather, a single second where he didn’t have to think of anything. To Park Jisung, worrying was second nature, although he couldn’t let it show. Neo’s Jisung was tough, a kid wise beyond his age; the other Jisung, the one that lived before the memories started, was scared, a kid who had never gotten the chance to grow up. A kid that never existed, not to this place.

But there was no before, and no ‘other’ Jisung. He was imagining things, an escape from reality, coping mechanism, a daydream out of reach. So why did he hold on to it, this idea, this creation of his, for dear life?

“You could say that,” Jisung shrugged, hoping the subject would die on its own and Jungwoo wouldn’t press any further. He didn’t want to talk about it – he wasn’t sure he could, anyway. And with Jungwoo’s sensitivity to negative emotions, he didn’t want to start and get into one of these weird mood swings he got when he was thinking too much. He would much prefer unpacking Jungwoo’s groceries in silence, the remnants of a long forgotten forest fire caused by one of the elders tickling his nose once in a while.

“It must be weighting on you,” Jungwoo went on, ignoring the boy’s silent request. “I could tell before you got here, from the edge of the forest. I hadn’t felt that in a while. They almost surprised me, the vibrations,” he rambled, lost in his thoughts. He wasn’t afraid of letting his mind loose, something Jisung could not relate to. “I can help, you know,” he suggested after a while, looking at the younger expectedly.

Jisung had never experienced Jungwoo’s powers firsthand, but somehow, he knew they wouldn’t work on him – and if there was one thing Jisung could trust in this land of the unknown, it was his gut feeling. “I know, Jungwoo. But I didn’t come here for me, I came for you,” he declined, throwing his way an apologetic excuse of a smile.

Jungwoo frowned in response, followed by a scoff. “Don’t lie to me. You came here because Johnny and Ten asked you to,” he called out, the grin adorning his face nothing like he usually was. Jisung gulped, his hand tightening around the fruit in his hand. “You’re today’s messenger bringing me food and news from the city. And then you’re going to leave, because everyone has better things to do.”

This was awkward. Jisung had never been the best at reading social cues, but he could tell Jungwoo wasn’t in the greatest mood. Still, it did nothing to stop him from asking the dumbest question this situation could afford: “Isn’t that why we brought you here? To be away from people?”

He winced, noticing his mistake as soon as it left his mouth. Jungwoo looked up, and Jisung might not have had empathy as high as the older did, but he could read the sadness for afar just fine. “Not all of them,” Jungwoo muttered from his seat, eyes trailing back to his lap. “Just one.”

Needless to say, Jisung was unaware of how to comfort a broken-hearted individual. He figured taking Jungwoo’s mind off Yukhei wouldn’t hurt, but then again, how to insert a completely different subject into the conversation without being obvious? Jisung was terrible at small talk. Or big talk, for that matter. He preferred it much more when it was Chenle who talked in his place, blabbering on about anything in the loudest register ever in human history.

So, how? _By not changing the subject at all_ , his teenage brain insisted. “Jungwoo, who… Who hurts the most?” Jisung asked, muting the scolds coming from his own mind. It was a question like any other, a simple curiosity; what harm could it do? “Apart from like, you know.”

Jungwoo looked up. “Apart from the incessant headache coming from the man who doesn’t love me?”

Yeah, okay, he had miscalculated. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened, like when he had thought giving a plushie to Chenle would lift up his mood, but instead his friend had started crying hysterically. He had dubbed it Jisung’s law: whatever the situation he’d instigate, it would always end up with the worst possible outcome. “I— I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that,” Jisung sputtered, an awkward chuckle escaping alongside. _Fuck my life_. “Forget I said anything.”

“No, it’s okay,” Jungwoo spoke up, trying to crack a smile. Always willing to go beyond what he was comfortable with, in the hope of pleasing others; that was one hundred percent Jungwoo. “I’ve been a little on edge ever since. I’m sorry if I can come off snappier than usual,” he conceded, though this wasn’t anywhere close to his fault. Another classic Jungwoo trait.

The older took a deep breath, directing all his attention to Jisung. Maybe this would help him take his mind off things, after all. “These days, I don’t feel anyone from this far, except for you right now and, you know, him. He’s… unparalleled,” he said, the smile on his lips faltering a little, but with a spark of fondness in his eyes. “But when I was still in the city, I think you can guess who made the loudest noise inside my head.”

This was almost too easy. “Jaehyun.”

Jungwoo nodded, a soft giggle at how quick Jisung had answered. “Jaehyun, yes. It used to be Taeyong, but he’s been calming down for a while now,” he informed, the younger happy to know he had been right. “I don’t get it, though. Why Jaehyun has to be so angry all the time, I have no clue.”

Jisung would have loved to have an answer to this question as well. Sure, there was the longstanding feud with Renjun and the eloquent need to ‘ _get the fuck out of this hellhole_ ’, but these two things couldn’t make someone angry forever. “I don’t think even Doyoung knows, to be honest,” Jisung shrugged.

As silence grew back, Jisung fearing they would start to settle into the awkward atmosphere of earlier, another question popping into his mind. “And whose energy is the weirdest? Like, gives you the strangest feeling?” He requested, trying to hide his curiosity; Jisung would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in Jungwoo’s abilities, and of course he would jump on the opportunity to ask what he had always wanted to know.

“Are you trying to ask about Taeil?” Jungwoo tilted his head, his lips turning into a smirk. The younger would have wiped it off his face pretty quickly, had this not been the biggest improvement in his mood since Jisung had shown up. He would let him be, for now.

“No,” he answered instead, but weirdly enough, his body reacted the way it would when he lied: furtive glances to his feet, voice coming on stronger than expected, hands waving in dismissal. _Alright, fine_. “Maybe.”

Jungwoo laughed; for once, Jisung had made the right choice. “You might be disappointed. There’s nothing _that_ special about him. Sure, a little uncommon. His negative and positive energies are perfectly balanced at all times,” Jungwoo disclosed, his eyes looking up, lost in thought. “It’s the same with Renjun. And you, when you were younger.”

He had no doubt something would be out of the ordinary about Taeil, as every single person in Neo would have expected. But Renjun? The boy had nothing in common with the older man. Jisung was reminded of his conversation with Johnny, how Renjun had gotten off-grid so suddenly. Did Jungwoo have that same experience, Renjun becoming radio-static out of the blue? But why didn’t Johnny lose track of Taeil as well? Or Jisung, for that matter? And what did Jungwoo mean, ‘ _not anymore_ ’?

He should have never asked. Fucking Jisung’s law. Too many questions, so little answers, and he despised being kept in the dark. If Jungwoo was this perceptive about what went on in other people’s minds, what else could he be aware of? How much did he know, exactly? Oh boy, what if he knew about—

“But it doesn’t compare to Jaemin,” Jungwoo continued, frowning to help himself recall, voicing Jisung’s deepest fear. The boy’s hand froze midway into the bag of groceries, unable to get the last item out, paralysed by dread. “With him, there’s nothing. Not like Taeil, where it adds up to neutral. There’s just… nothing. I’ve never felt anything like it. A black hole.”

This was never what they had intended. Jisung had only wanted him to be okay, to be back. For his sake, for Chenle’s, the whole town. That was it, no tricks underneath, no wrongful intentions. For Jaemin to be fine. But with Jungwoo’s perspective, the dilemma widened. Had they taken something away from Jaemin in doing so? Had they chosen the wrong answer? Should they have even brought him back in the first place, but most importantly, should they have been the ones to decide?

He had to tell Johnny about this. Or… maybe not – the older would only scold him for not listening to him and keeping his mouth shut, and Jisung had enough of that. Jaemin was fine, anyway; if anything truly terrible had happened, Jeno would have made sure every living thing around knew as much. To tell Johnny would only burden him. There was nothing to worry about then, and nothing now. Right?

“So I guess that would be my final answer,” Jungwoo snapped him out of his thoughts, unaware of the fight boiling inside the youngest. Jisung wished he could be as uninvolved as the older, caring for himself and a precious others rather than an entire city. To know was tiring. If only Jisung could sleep it away.

“There’s— Um, there’s someone else, too,” Jungwoo added, his tone more distant than what it used to be. Jisung took the last item from the bag, furrowing his brows at Jungwoo, who seemed to be interested in everything around the room but Jisung. “It made me feel weird, but not because it was strange. More because it was from someone I… didn’t expect.”

Jungwoo’s eyes met his, when it became clear there was no escape. Jisung felt a shiver run down his spine; the kind he had experienced long ago, dropping from the sky into the unknown. The wind’s scream in his ears. “Who?”

The deep breath Jungwoo took couldn’t mean well. “You know who,” he said, barely above a whisper. The soundwaves itched in Jisung’s ears. “You’ve been waiting to hear it, long before you asked that first question.” His expression had softened, looking at the younger boy with what seemed to be pity in his eyes.

Jisung looked away. The answer was too clear, but it tore his insides apart to even think about it, and what it all entailed. That small spark of hope he had held onto for so long, he had to let it fade, no matter how hard it would be to live without its blissful warmth. “Say it,” he demanded, hands turning to fists, teeth gritted, eyes shut. Like ripping off a bandaid, he had to go through it to realise how deep the damage ran. Hiding it from himself wouldn’t heal anything. “Say it, or I won’t believe it.”

Jungwoo sighed, getting up from the couch and walking towards him, the kitchen counter standing between them. Jisung refused to look at him still, but Jungwoo leaned his elbows on the counter, making it harder to pretend he couldn’t see him. “You already know he’s not well. You see it, _him_ , everyday,” Jungwoo pointed out, his voice just as soft, reading through Jisung’s soul. “Why do you need me to say it?”

 _Because I need to hear it_. That spark had to die, for Jisung to see how cold the world was: his best friend wasn’t fine, far from it, and all the clouds around them were grayer than the way out. “Because once you put it in the real, I won’t be able to ignore it.”

  
  


The walk back home had been slow and contemplative. There was so much clutter in Jisung’s mind, he didn’t know where to start cleaning up the mess, and so his thoughts jumped around, bouncing over each other with no intention of resolving anything. A jumble of incoherent and anxious ideas, a thousand boulders cuffed to Jisung’s feet and no key to set them free – set himself free.

When never-ending thoughts crept up on him, his remedy would be going to Chenle, the expert at taking Jisung’s mind off things. Whether with his laugh, crazy stories about the mundane events of his day, or new gossip about what he had gathered from sneaking up on the elders, Jisung could always count on the boy to relieve him of his worries. Plus, it was easy to do so, since they lived in the same apartment block, and Chenle was always barging into his room unannounced anyway.

But what to do, now that his greatest concerns were about him? How could his mind wander free in his presence, when Chenle was the one enabling these thoughts in the process? And it wasn’t like Jisung could talk to him about it; it had already been established how terrible of a speaker he was. His inability to express himself would only make Chenle worry even more, which neither boys needed.

He was out of it today, and when he opened the door to his building and bumped into said boy, stepping on his toes and making him drop the ball he was holding, he figured he should do something about it sooner than later. But not now, though; he had to get up from his graceful fall first.

“Jisung Park!” Chenle exclaimed, holding his hand out. Jisung accepted the help, back on his feet in no time. Now that he towered over the boy, he could notice the apprehension stretched across his face. Exactly what he hoped wouldn’t happen. “Where were you? I’ve been looking for you all day. You never lock your door. Why would you lock your door?”

Jisung shrugged, coming up with a quick and easy excuse. Jungwoo’s location had to remain hidden, in case Yukhei would decide to look for him, and Chenle was terribly good at extracting secrets; mentioning the older’s name would only make the situation spiral down. He had to keep things under control, for Johnny’s sake at least. “I was just walking around. Wanted to say hi to people.”

“Since the sunrise? Really?” Chenle raised an eyebrow, suspicious of his friend’s antics. Even Jisung wouldn’t believe an excuse like that, so poorly crafted and paired with a shitty delivery. “Who gets up that early?”

“You, apparently.” For Chenle to know the approximate moment he was gone, the boy had to be up as well. _You were waiting for me at sunrise?_ Jisung wanted to tease, but his thoughts were derailed by a detail he shouldn’t have overlooked: his sleeping pattern. Oh, boy. “Lele, did something happen? Another nightmare?”

Chenle let out a nervous chuckle, turning around to fetch the ball he had dropped earlier. “No, no. I was bored and you make me less bored. But I guess _someone_ had better things to do, so I had to find something else: basketball at Jaemin’s.” He dribbled in the hallway, putting on a smile to defuse the tension. “I wanted to go eat something, but after that, you can walk me over. I guess you could join us if you want, too. It’s me, Jaemin and Jeno; you’d make it into an even number and that’s more ideal than one versus one versus one, you know? More fun in teams.”

Chenle was rambling. It wasn’t unusual for the boy to speak his mind longer and more in depth than the average individual. But Jisung was his best friend; he could definitely tell when the rambling was storytelling, or a way to cover up what he didn’t want to say. Today, it was the latter.

That, or Jisung was reading way too much into it. “What about Renjun and Donghyuck? They can’t come?” He asked, opting to let the matter go and walk Chenle to Jaemin’s house as requested, with a pit stop to their favourite fast food place.

He thought of asking again about the nightmares, but revised against it. Chenle usually had those in the middle of the night, but the possibility they could happen before waking up, at the beginning of the day wasn’t so far fetched either. Jisung would hate himself if he had gone somewhere else while his friend was left to deal with it alone. He didn’t know what they were about, or why the storm following Hansol’s departure triggered them in the first place, and it hurt Jisung to think his best friend didn’t trust him enough to tell the truth. But if Chenle wasn’t ready to talk, then he wasn’t. Jisung wouldn’t push it; he too had secrets he couldn’t share with the most important person in his life, and it hurt him just as much.

“Hyuck is busy,” Chenle replied, dribbling the ball along the road. It echoed against the tall buildings, the sound reminding Jisung of how empty the world around them was. “I don’t know what could be so important he would skip on some well-deserved fun with all his friends, but whatever. His loss. And Renjun is nowhere to be seen, but what’s new.”

The two boys walked side by side, Chenle occasionally dropping the ball and having to take a sprint before it could stray too far from the road. For two rowdy teenage boys, they were pretty quiet that day. The fast food joint they both liked was close enough for silence not to weight in too much on them, but Jaemin’s house was in a suburban neighbourhood across town; in other words, the walk might be long, and feel a lot longer, if they kept to themselves.

Another telltale sign Chenle wasn’t doing great: silence. For the past few minutes now, none had said a word, the only sound being the ball hitting the asphalt in repetitive motions. Chenle hated silence, so much he had trouble falling asleep without background noises. Everytime he could feel incoming silence, he would either whine until the other found something to talk about, or create the most absurd debate suggestions to keep them going at it for days. But when he was doing neither… It didn’t take a detective to figure out something wasn’t right.

Jisung pushed away his thoughts for later; now was the time for a semi-good meal in company of a friend. “I haven’t been here in so long,” Chenle rejoiced, opening the door and imitating the chimes as they announced their arrival. “I wanted to come the other day, but then I walked by the grocery store and, ugh, there was this pizza in the window…”

He muted out the end of Chenle’s sentence, figuring if he encouraged him in the slightest, he would never hear the end of it. Also because something felt wrong, and his investigative senses had taken over; something was missing in the restaurant, and it bugged him not to know what, until he took a glance at the counter.

“Mark’s not here,” Jisung remarked, the tiny detective in his mind giving him a thumbs up. He didn’t know how the older did it; everytime the duo walked over somewhere, Mark would always be there already to help them out, even when the boys hadn’t let anyone know of their plans. He could have been granted a special ability alongside the job. It wouldn’t be the craziest idea. But now that he wasn’t here… A malfunction of power, or a denial of the job? Either way, something to bring up to Johnny’s attention. “That’s weird.”

“Is it, though?” Chenle counter-offered, making his voice even higher-pitched than ordinary. “It’s a little more weird when he _is_ here, no offense.”

The boy had a point. It could get creepy, when unexpected, and the definite cause of jumpscares with the way Mark kept walking on his tiptoes not to make any sound, trying not to bother anyone with his presence. “Go pick us a booth, I’ll jump the counter,” Jisung suggested, already sitting over the marble top. “Your usual?”

“Extra ice!” Chenle requested, dribbling his ball on the squeaky-clean floor a few times before settling for a table. Meanwhile, Jisung had already jumped over to go into the kitchen, grabbing as many handfuls of forgotten cold fries as he could and filling up a paper bag, adding up a couple nuggets to his collection.

At the fountain dispenser, he filled one cup with Sprite – bubble juice, he told Chenle, because there were no brands in Neo – and another with extra ice, strawberry punch and a drop of lemonade, Chenle’s usual. He laid his findings out on a tray and, careful not to spill anything, sat on the counter and brought his feet back to the right side. The display of slight gymnastics made Chenle clap at his friend with the tip of his fingers, like a fancy man in a suit waiting on his five star meal in a restaurant.

Sitting opposite his friend devouring the fries at an alarming rate, Jisung munched on a nugget, becoming pensive again. The same train of thought as earlier, making a comeback inside his brain and overall threatening to make his mood gloomy again. Instead of pushing the thoughts away this time, in a whim, Jisung let them sit at the reigns. There would be no better opportunity than this one to set the record straight.

“Chenle,” Jisung called out, catching the boy’s attention. The latter stopped sipping on his drink, straw between his teeth, shifting his attention to Jisung. There was a smile on his face, but it wouldn’t reach his eyes, no matter how wide it stretched. He couldn’t remember the last time it had, actually. Jisung gulped. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there this morning. I’ll try to tell you next time I leave somewhere.”

Chenle’s smile faltered, almost imperceptible. He put down his cup, the ice cubes clinking together. “You don’t need to do that,” he mentioned, his fingers tapping on the table. “You know I get stressed over nothing. It’s not your fault.”

“If it relieves you of that stress, it’s not a problem for me,” Jisung insisted, putting his arms over on the table. Anything he could to ease his friend’s mind. Then again, asking what was causing him such trouble in the first place would have been an efficient way to help out, yet Jisung hadn’t taken the chance to ask even once. And if he wanted to stay true to his word, anything he had the power to do, he needed to do. “Chenle. You… you would tell me if something was wrong, right?” He stuttered, frail and small, the complete opposite of what he wanted to come off as. Great.

Chenle seemed to tense up, chewing at his straw. “What do you mean by that?”

And when Jisung needed his words the most, they vanished, leaving his mouth dry and stumbling to create meaning with the crumbs left behind. He rubbed the back of his neck, coughing out impending awkwardness. “Like, if— uh, like… I don’t know, but maybe— Nevermind.”

Why, _why_ did this have to happen to him, in the most crucial moment, the _only_ important moment! Why must he be so horrible at feelings and so worried for his friend, he couldn’t function because of it? Was it too much to ask, for Chenle to be alright? Why couldn’t it be granted to him, this one innocent wish?

“Jisung,” Chenle spoke up, pushing aside his drink and the bag of fries. In one swift motion, he strengthened his back and leaned forward over the table, sticking his hand out under Jisung’s chin to lift his head up. Staring at each other, Jisung could see sadness veiling Chenle’s eyes, and his heart broke a little more. “Are _you_ —”

The chimes at the door jingled. “Hey, kids! What’s fresh?” A voice coming from the door interrupted them. Jisung groaned; he didn’t need to turn around to know the exact individual strutting over to the pair, unaware – or hyper aware – of the situation he had broken into.

Jisung had to act quick. “How about you go join the guys and I entertain Grandpa over there?” He heavily implied, taking Chenle’s hand off his chin. He would have much rather stayed with him and forget about the intruder, but alas, it was his duty to answer this man’s call, whether he liked it or not. “They must be waiting for you to start. I’ll come by after.”

A sigh. “You better,” Chenle replied, a bitter edge to his tone, and Jisung was already regretting every single life choice leading him to this very moment. And so, as the boy grabbed his cup and walked away, dribbling without enthusiasm, the chimes jingling at his departure, Jisung wished for him to look back.

He didn’t.

Jisung took a sip of his drink, taking in the last seconds of peace he could enjoy before the man would come in and mess up everything. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to him, far from it. What could he want, anyway? He had been clear enough last time they had spoken, and although Jisung had been much younger at the time, he remembered every sentence as if they had been carved in ink into his skin. So what could make him, of all people, break his word?

“I thought we were meant to never talk to each other again, Taeil,” the younger spat as the older sat in Chenle’s place. Everything in Taeil’s life, he did with a purpose, Jisung had learned to know from afar. Begging to be put on the City Council and never participating in any discussion? A man on a mission with eyes everywhere. Abandoning a child? The greater good needed it most. Coming up to talk to him again, years after they had last spoken? Never without reason. “Unless you know something is happening.”

Taeil did everything with a purpose, but Jisung couldn’t see how breaking a conversation between him and Chenle would save the world. Or how keeping quiet was going to give Jisung answers. “So? What now?” Jisung tried again, hoping to annoy the elder until he’d shut the boy up and give him what he needed. “How long do we have, before next tragedy? Who’s the lucky one, if not all of us?”

“Jisungie,” Taeil finally spoke up, grinning at the blonde. He held out a hand, as if he wanted to touch the boy’s face, but it froze midway, his smile faltering a little. “You’ve grown so much.”

Jisung wanted to laugh. Out of all things, Taeil had judged fit to break the ice with an observation anyone with a memory of older days could have done. Not just any ice either; the thick layered type covering up everything that used to link them both, no heat or fireplace strong enough to melt it away. “You’d have noticed, if you hadn’t left me when I wasn’t ready.”

Taeil’s hand fell to the table, looking up to the boy with wide eyes, taking in his changed features with utmost attention. “Look at you!” He let out a small laugh. To anyone else, this would have been interpreted as inappropriate, but Jisung knew Taeil as much as the elder knew him, and this particular laugh meant nerves over actual joy. And Taeil wasn’t one to get nervous over anything. “You did fine without me. Better than what I could have given you,” he shook his head, his red hair falling over his forehead, still tracing Jisung’s features with his piercing gaze.

“You don’t know that,” the younger shut down, crossing his arms over his chest. Taeil might have known stuff no Neocitizen could come close to comprehend, but on this one, Jisung called bullshit. “We’ll never know that.”

Taeil sighed, shifting in his seat. Once again, his hands tried to reach forward, this time an attempt to grab Jisung’s hands resting on the table, but just as before, Taeil stopped himself midway. “Jisung,” he muttered, looking up to the boy with his forever unreadable expression. “How are you?”

Awfully bold of him to ask, after cutting Jisung off – a fucking child, mind you, not even a teen at the time, but a literal kid – the way he did, unashamed, never trying to fix his wrongdoings in the years and years they had spent trapped under the same endless roof. “How _am_ I?” Jisung scoffed, almost ashamed of how much he had looked up to him. “I don’t know who I am, Taeil. I’ve never known, and you know that. You knew back then too, and yet left me to deal with it alone. Deal with everything alone.”

There was a quiet rage inside Jisung, silent and invisible, and he had never noticed how prominent it was until coming face to face with Taeil again. All this time ago, when Jisung was shaking in his bed, confusing dreams with reality and waking up in sweat every night with the fear he was losing his mind, it was Taeil who held his hand and shushed him back to sleep with tender words. And on the times he didn’t want to go back into this dark abyss and remember things he shouldn’t, Taeil kept holding his hand as they left the cabin for a breath of fresh air, looking at the stars Taeil put on and removed like clockwork.

After everything went down and there was no one left to hold his hand through the night, Jisung stopped going to sleep. It turned out it wasn’t such a necessity, here. But with all this newfound time on his hands, the boredom got the better of him; so did the anger, because now that Jisung could put a name to it, looking straight into Taeil’s soul, he could feel the flames burning him inside out, flames that had begun raging after their last words exchanged.

But still, even with all this hurt and rage brewing for years, Jisung missed him a lot more than he cared to admit. Taeil had always been important to him, and when the words, the insecurities came flowing out, he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. “How come it was so easy for everyone else to let go of who they were, of what they used to be, and not me?” He let out, his hands shaking, but relief washing over him. “How come they got used to everything so quickly, and it’s been forever and I can’t forget the past I don’t have?”

Jisung’s breath quivered, all the pent up emotions he didn’t know he had creating waves higher than he could handle, drowning in his own self. “Why can’t I let go?” He murmured, one of the many questions about himself he had never been able to solve.

This time, Taeil didn’t hold back, grabbing the boy’s hand and sandwiching them between his own. Taeil’s hands had always been cold, but the touch warmed up Jisung in a way the rage’s fire couldn’t. “Because you’re like me,” he whispered back. “Because you’ve been chosen to remember.”

“But I don’t want it,” Jisung blurted, overtaken by the same old worries unable to leave him and anxiety higher than anything he had ever felt before. “I don’t want— and, and Chenle, he’s— I don’t want— Taeil, please help me.”

Taeil gave his hands an affectionate squeeze, the memories of happier times together calming the youngest, making him wish he was still a child, still clueless about the world, still unbothered and carefree. Still with Taeil. “It’s okay. Just a little more,” the older smiled. “I’ll fix everything, I promise.”

  
  


} {

  
  


Usually, when Taeil came home after a day of familiarising himself with the city, he would remove his coat and place it on the hanger by the door, huffing out a sigh and taking place in the nearest armchair to close his eyes. Then, after a few minutes, he would open them again, and with a smile on his face he would ask Jisung about his day.

So when Taeil threw his coat on the sofa and kneeled down beside Jisung, grabbing him by the shoulders, the younger knew something had happened. Bad or good, he couldn’t ever tell with Taeil, but it was something indeed. Something big.

“Jisung, I need you to do something for me,” he started, but to the younger, it felt like an end. The Earth rumbled under their cabin, as if nodding along Jisung’s fears.

“Some new people are coming,” Taeil disclosed, only the beginning of Jisung’s incomprehension of a situation bigger than himself, than both of them “They will need help. Remember how we needed help, too, but there was no one around? We won’t let it happen again. We’ll blend in with them, and show them around, so they feel more at home than we ever did. Make it easier for them, because we know how hard it is. Okay?”

Jisung nodded. It had been more than hard, and without the help of someone like Taeil to guide him through, it would have been downright painful. Of course Jisung would help the newcomers. Give back what he had been gifted for the greater good.

“What I need you to do,” Taeil gulped, “is to pretend we just arrived, too. We’ve been here a lot longer, but they can’t know. We’ve never met before, you and I, and we’re as confused as the rest of them, except for the little tricks we’ll help them with. Can you do that for me?”

The realisation dawned upon him a second later. “We can’t live together anymore?” Jisung muttered, looking up to Taeil. This couldn’t be right. Taeil was his rock, the one keeping him in check, reminding him that beyond these unseen walls, there was life as he dreamt it. He couldn’t leave Jisung, alone, in such a big city, surrounded by strangers, fending for himself. This couldn’t be right. Right?

Taeil ignored his question, but Jisung could see in his eyes the abnormal shine of tears confirming he had heard every single word. “If they ask how you know so much, you tell them what I’ve always told you, or you ignore it and move on. But no matter what, they can’t know. This is our secret. And it needs to stay that way, for their sake.”

 _Don’t ask how I know_ , Taeil had always told him. Since the very beginning, Taeil had known stuff about this place Jisung couldn’t begin to understand; it was a Taeil thing, a Neo thing, Jisung settled with. Still, he missed the normal he had never known. He’d miss Taeil, too.

“They won’t remember there was a before. Don’t bring it up. They won’t know they come from someplace else, so don’t ask where they’re from. They’re from here, and so are we. We’re locals now, us two, and all of them.”

A tear, lonesome and heavy, fell from Taeil’s cheek. This was the first and last time Jisung would ever see him cry. “Can you pretend for me, Jisung?”

He hadn’t understood half of it, but the message was pretty clear: we were never here. The boy nodded, feeling his own eyes well up at the prospect of, once again, leaving a life he couldn’t tell anyone about behind. “Okay.”

“Alright,” Taeil smiled and squeezed his shoulders, giving off warmth like the fireplace in the cabin they had inhabited together for so long, on those cold nights were they huddled together sipping on hot chocolate and pretending to see shapes in the flames. Nothing but memories, now. Memories he might dream of and wake up screaming from, longing for something he was never supposed to know. “Let’s go build a city, kid.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three billion years later...introducing chenji  
> mr. moon tho... legend! as usual
> 
> omg 6 chapters left... are you quaking in your boots yet


	13. MARK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mark wants to follow his heart in a world that throws it away.

**xiii**. MARK

 

Taeil – not a word spoken, either as acceptance or protestation. Taeyong – wanting to get over it as soon as possible, blinded by eternal crimson. Yuta – hadn’t followed a single thing, focused on his own fantasies sitting across the room. Doyoung – did try to do something, but it wasn’t enough. Jaehyun – uninterested and uncaring of anyone associated to his arch nemesis. Sicheng – not even pretending to listen, nodding along the Council’s thoughts. And Johnny – the bastard who had suggested the idea in the first place.

Together, these individuals had taken the decision Mark would forever regret saying yes to. Mark, who had always been praised by the elders for being so mature for his age, impressionable and wanting to impress. Mark, under the spell of poisonous praise concocted by these eight individuals, ready to show them they hadn’t been wrong to say these things. Mark, who had answered exactly the way they had intended.

Manipulators, traitors, bystanders, they had all played a decisive role in the way Mark’s mind and soul began crumbling down little by little, day after day. With no one but himself to pick the pieces back up, he had to wake up earlier than most to glue them together, before someone else could demand his services and restart the process.

Where there was a list of all the wrongs, there had to be one with the rights; much shorter, but existing. Doyoung  – did try to do something, and although it wasn’t enough, he _had_ spoken up, and had also made attempts to ease off Mark’s burden afterwards. (Only after a lot of consideration had Mark removed him from the impulsive list he had written down the night of, now grateful for the older’s help.)

And, last but never the least, Donghyuck – mad at his age for being unable to swear off the elders, mad he couldn’t step in because Mark would only shove him the furthest from the job, and pissed off Mark had agreed to it so carelessly. Donghyuck was rarely angry, but after Taeyong had declared the meeting adjourned, the boy ran off with a mean scowl on his face, avoiding Mark for the rest of the day.

It spoke for itself, the way so many people prone to indifference remained on Mark’s bad side while those who dared speak up, although not always positively, meant much more. He wouldn’t lie; it had hurt to see Donghyuck so frustrated, shaking his head at his best friend and running away from City Council – and him. Yet, in his silent frowns, it showed how much he cared better than any of these selfish assholes did.

Yes, selfish assholes: thinking only for themselves, about themselves, logic and attention flying out the window when anything stopped helping their own cause. Taking a decision that didn’t need to exist, because of their own laziness and need for total freedom, one individual paying the price. That individual being a fucking child.

Mark was so terribly angry, both at himself and the others, jumping from one to the other with every passing hour. He was surprised Jungwoo hadn’t shown up to his doorstep to knock some sense into him, for all the ruckus inside his brain would have surely created deafening noise. When the door knocked, he sucked in a breath, formulating apologies, but he was met with another familiar face instead.

That night, Donghyuck had apologised profusely, on the constant verge of tears and struggling to find the right words to make up for his actions. Mark had known Donghyuck for as long as he could remember, literally, but he had never seen the boy this flustered, stuttering, ashamed of himself. Mark wanted nothing more than wipe away all the negative emotions off his best friend’s face, all so foreign and never supposed to be there in the first place. He would never be mad at Donghyuck, and as the thought settled, Mark realised something he had always known, buried deep in his beating heart, bigger than his own self: Donghyuck was good.

Donghyuck was so, so good, and Mark had been a fool not to understand it any sooner. The time when Renjun had arrived was proof enough; stranger in a land where everyone knew each other, Donghyuck stepped forward, taking him under his wing without hesitation until the newcomer called this place home.

Or Mark’s first day in Neo. Out of breath, begging to go back, a confused child surrounded by mystery and crushing dread. The older citizens had tried everything to calm him down, all attempts failures, until a curious individual as old as he were looked at him with puzzled brows and asked about numbers, of all things. At the time, he had dismissed it as an odd demand; looking back, as a distraction from his own thoughts when they had become too overwhelming to process, the boy understanding his pain in a way none of the elders did.

From the very beginning, Donghyuck had looked out for him, and had never stopped since. Even in their frustrated states after a day too tiring to comprehend, Donghyuck was still catering to Mark’s wellbeing, and only when the worst was yet to come did Mark finally open his eyes to the gift granted to him.

There had been so many instances, Mark brushing off Donghyuck as being himself, because that was just who Donghyuck was. But after that day, these apologies, these new feelings boiling inside Mark’s chest, it couldn’t be denied; Donghyuck was different from the others, wholeheartedly empathetic in a selfish world. And he was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

That night, Mark hugged him tighter than he ever had. They hadn’t felt it right then, the tiniest of shifts on a microscopic scale, but something between them changed that day. Whether it was in the way Mark instinctively reached out for his body in the warmth of a shared bed, or how Donghyuck would stay up until the early hours of the night if it meant they’d get to talk for a little while, things would never be the same, for the better.

  
  


} {

  
  


_I’ll be right behind you, a couple streets away_ , Mark recalled Donghyuck’s words, missing him already. He wished he could have stayed by his side, in need of his hand to hold onto, but he understood the younger boy’s intentions; this was something Mark needed to do for himself, by himself. _Call out for me and I’ll be there in a second_ , Donghyuck had smiled, waving him off into the city.

 _You got this_ , Mark told himself, walking closer to City Center. It sounded better when Donghyuck said it, the words doing nothing to melt away the dread climbing up through his spine with each step.

After Mark’s little breakdown in the burger joint, it hadn’t taken much convincing from Donghyuck to take the decision of rejecting his responsibilities. It was the only logical thing left to do, his body and sanity screaming for a change of pace; plus, with Donghyuck pleading for him to put an end to it, the look on his face one Mark could never resist to, the choice hadn’t been hard to make. What would be harder, though, was confronting Johnny about it. The one thing he had been unable to do for so long, and was now marching towards to.

When Mark had accepted the job, Johnny had described it to him as ‘a helping hand, in case someone needs assistance with something, everyone would be so grateful’. It turned out to mean ‘assist everyone in all things anytime, and if you don’t show up five minutes later, you might as well never step foot inside City Council ever again. Oh also, now you somehow have a an alarm tracker, and everytime someone will need something, you won’t be able to forget it’. The older had tricked him, manipulated him into agreeing without divulging all the information; Johnny had lied, plain and simple, and it wouldn’t be the last time he’d do it.

Mark used to blame the Council (minus Donghyuck and Doyoung) for his fall into the trap, each and every individual responsible for the bells ringing in his head every time someone would express a desire. They still were, and they would always be the ones to blame, but after the events of D-Day, Mark had started thinking otherwise. Behind every great group had to be an idea, and behind the idea, the man who had pitched it in the first place.

D-Day, or Death Day. The never-ending cause of Mark’s internal nightmares, the scenes repeating themselves like a song stuck on repeat. Getting in the room, cleaning up his workspace, Jaemin asking where Jeno was, answering he had left, Jaemin calling out Mark’s name, Jaemin not breathing, Mark running off, _Johnny_ running in. Repeat: getting in the room, cleaning up… And then Johnny running in, then out, Jisung following, Jaemin calling out Mark’s name again, breathing. Repeat: getting in the room…

Somehow, someway, the two worst days of his life had been marked by the same man. In Neo, there were no coincidences – both instances had to be connected, part of something bigger. And whatever Johnny’s plan was, starting today, Mark wouldn’t follow anymore.

When Mark reached City Center, Johnny was already sitting on the empty fountain’s edge, waiting for him with his arms crossed over his chest. Well, not necessarily waiting for _him_ ; it was Donghyuck who had approached the elder at the end of their most recent City Council session, asking if they could talk about something in private later. It was a little risky, Mark hoping Johnny wouldn’t be too disappointed to see him instead. Because if he were, they’d be off to a bad start, and Mark needed him to be positive and receptive to his perspective in order for the day not to end in a shitstorm.

Johnny finally noticed him getting closer and waved at the boy. “Hey, Mark!” He smiled, and Mark couldn’t help but think of it as hypocrite. When he didn’t wave back, Johnny’s smile faltered, his expression turning into a frown. “You’re not with Donghyuck?” He then asked, stretching his neck to look behind Mark for a sign of the younger. Mark wanted to scoff at his obliviousness, but he couldn’t waste his chances for an occasion to be petty.

“Actually, Donghyuck didn’t need to talk to you,” he disclosed, catching back Johnny’s attention. Though now that his eyes were on him, the words refused to leave, gasping at air in hope his voice would cooperate. “I did,” he let out, his shoulders tensing as they left. There was no going back.

“Oh,” Johnny nodded, not as surprised as Mark had expected him to be. He had probably seen it coming anyway, considering he knew where everyone was at all times. “You could have just told me, you know,” the older chuckled, getting up on his feet, hands behind his back. “So, what did you need to talk about?”

 _You got this_ , Donghyuck whispered. Mark wished he was here. This was just as hard as he thought it would be, and he didn’t like it in the slightest, but with Donghyuck by his side, he could have handled it better. _No going back, Mark_. “It’s the job. Well, jobs, plural,” Mark answered, swallowing the lump in his throat. No going back. “I’m done with them, Johnny.”

Mark wanted to feel relieved, and he could tell some part of him was, hidden under a huge pile of apprehension. It should have been the most relieving thing in the world, to free himself of his daily burden, but as long as Johnny would look at him this puzzled, there would be no rest for the boy. “What do you mean, done? As in, you can’t do them anymore? That’s not a problem, we can find someone to help—”

“No, no. Done as in over. Finished. This is my, uh, official resignation.” Mark cut off, fearing the older would get any more ideas if he didn’t clarify quick enough. Johnny’s eyes widened, his expression turning cold. “I’m not asking for you to approve, but at least to respect my decision.”

Mark could see the gears turn inside Johnny’s brain, unable to say if it were a good sign or the exact opposite. Then, Johnny broke into an awkward smile, shaking his head, and Mark could tell he had been right to say the latter. “You can’t resign, Mark, you gave your word,” the older chuckled, tilting his head and placing a hand on Mark’s shoulder. His grip was oddly strong, for a touch meant to comfort. “Who would take your place, now? You and I both know there’s no one as qualified as you.”

 _Of course no one is, I had to learn everything for this job_! Mark wanted to yell at his face. No one in Neo needed to be qualified in anything, because they had Mark to rely on. Mark had had to learn everything he could on cooking, carpenting, plumbing, and other various shit anyone in Neo could have taught themselves by picking up the closest book on the subject, but why do it, when Mark already knew? And Mark hadn’t been chosen because of his skills either, in the beginning, but because he was the easiest one to peer pressure. So why pull that excuse now?

The answer: Johnny was a fucking hypocrite.

“Mark. We’re so little here, if we can’t trust each other to do our tasks, the city will fall,” he continued with the shitty excuses, not-so-subtly telling Mark he wouldn’t approve, nor respect his choice. Whatever the younger had to say, Johnny didn’t want to hear, focused on his own agenda. “Do you really want to live with yourself, knowing you’d have brought this end upon us?”

Mark’s eyes widened, surprised by the nonsensical counterattack and taking a step back, Johnny’s hand falling off his shoulder. Really? The end of Neo, because he refused to repair another fucking microwave? “You’re exaggerating, Johnny. People can deal with their own shit; that’s how it’s always worked before City Council,” Mark reminded Johnny, astonished by how far he was taking it. It was never that deep, and they never even needed a helping hand in the first place, yet the older was acting as if it were crucial for the city’s survival.

Caught up in his own head, Mark couldn’t notice Johnny’s furrowed brows at the younger, his face contorted in a grimace. “Excuse me, what did you say? Did you just swear at me because you’re pissed things aren’t going your way?” A bitter laugh escaped his lips, Mark nowhere near amused. “I hate to break it to you, but that’s the way the world works, kiddo. You give your word and you follow through, no matter how shitty the odds become. That’s life.”

In other words: _I am not letting you do this_. If Johnny wouldn’t bulge, waiting to hear a change of mind, Mark would have to bring in the big guns; for his freedom, and for Donghyuck, there were no limits to what he could do. Including dive head first into the most painful moment of his life.

“You gave your word to Jaemin, too, and look where that got us.”

A soft breeze ran through his hair, cold and gripping, a perfect reflection of the petrifying silence surrounding them. Slowly, like time had stretched across the infinite land, Johnny took in Mark’s words, a frown gracing his features once he understood. “You’re changing the subject.”

Mark had thrown him off, he could tell. The pause had been too long, the reaction too calculated. The curiosity in what Mark would say next, forgetting to redirect the conversation into something he’d have control over. He had lost it already, and Mark was just getting started. He should have never messed with someone who had almost nothing left to lose.

“No I’m not,” Mark shook his head, channelling all the confusion and hopelessness he had gathered since that day and lacing them into his words. “Did you give your word to Jaemin, that we’d do everything we could to save him?” He repeated, this time taking a step forward.

Johnny scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest once again. “Yes, and we did save him,” he affirmed, looking down on the boy. Mark didn’t know what was scarier: the taller’s piercing gaze reading into the tiniest cracks of his soul, or his own growing fire prompting him to look back without flinching.

Mark was angrier than they both had believed, and as his inner monologue begged him to stop, his mouth spat all the words he had kept inside too long. “No, you let him die and saved your own ass. If you could bring him back from the dead, what tells me you couldn’t heal him while he was alive? Why wait at the last fucking second to do something?”

His hands were shaking, he could hear his own heartbeat, ragged breathing included, and yet Mark had never felt so fucking powerful, Johnny shrinking behind the truth he had desperately tried to hide. Mark tilted his head and squinted, mocking the elder with no shame. “Hadn’t you given him your word, Johnny?”

Johnny’s jaw clenched, taking a few steps towards the smaller boy until there was no room left between them. “Don’t you dare put these accusations on me, Mark.” From the corner of his eye, the younger could see Johnny’s hands turn to fists, and Mark could swear the older’s eyes were turning darker as he learned forward. “You know nothing of what happened, and you don’t know what went down.”

“Except I do know what happened,” Mark insisted, his newfound confidence ready to put him in bad shape; Donghyuck wouldn’t get here in time even if he screamed, Johnny’s anger and fists much closer. Why not go out in a bang, then? “Because you put me in charge of him, and because you made me watch him die.”

But Mark wasn’t done. “Did you know I was his last word?” He continued before Johnny could get a word in, hoping his tone wouldn’t come across as vulnerable as it did when he first told Donghyuck. “Do you know all the hurt you put us through, him and I, Jeno, Doyoung, Chenle? Because of this job you gave me, and because of what you chose not to do, I know everything. And I’ll reveal everything, if you don’t let me leave it.”

Johnny was done for. Mark had fought and conquered, victorious against the silent enemy. He should have known to quit while he was on top; instead, possessed by this estranged side of him too proud to give up, he jabbed into the open wound. “I’m sure Ten would love to know,” he said, his voice detached from his body, watching himself from the outside say those words he already regretted.

He had once doubted he wouldn’t go far enough to get what he wanted, and now he had gone too far for something he had already won. In the blink of an eye, Johnny grabbed him by the collar, forcing the boy to stand on his tiptoes and watch through his eyes the fear and anger reflected back to him. “Don’t forget I know where you are at all times. Get close to him, and I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Mark continued, unable to stop the words from getting out. “Let me die when my time comes, like you did with Jaemin?”

Johnny released the boy from his grip, Mark’s feet unsteady on the newfound ground and stumbling back a little. He held his breath as he regained his balance, but looking up to the elder’s face once again, the air got stuck in his throat. As if the world had hit pause, and would only resume once Johnny would decide it could.

“Get out of my sight,” Johnny gritted, each syllable a stone thrown to Mark’s stomach. The boy exhaled, putting a hand to his chest to feel his lungs shrink, make sure they were intact, he were intact. His vessel didn’t feel the same, mind and body corrupted, separated and brought back together so many times in one conversation; he was dizzy, and Johnny’s dark eyes piercing through him weren’t helping.

So, for the last time, he did as Johnny told and ran away.

  
  


Mark had never been to the beach. Not this beach, anyway; somewhere, in a pocket of his mind with carefully wrapped memories he fought hard not to lose, he remembered a hot sunny day with his toes in the sand, sweetness on his tongue and giggles in the air. Who he was with or what he was doing were all long forgotten, but the sun heating his face, the ice cream filling him up and the water washing his feet never left.

This beach had none of the things Mark remembered, with its clouds, bitterness and freezing sea. A particularly ugly day to come and enjoy what could be such a wonderful place, which made it the perfect getaway for a boy wanting to be alone with his thoughts, the furthest from civilisation he could be.

He had done it. Against all odds, he had quit the poison of a job, freeing himself from its shackles. As of this day, he was a new man back to his older self, the one who could be just as carefree as anyone, the one who could enjoy life as it went by without all these preoccupations plaguing his brain. Today, Mark had quit his own personal hell.

So why didn’t he feel happy about it? Why was he all alone on a windy beach away from everything he loved, wondering where it had went wrong? Why couldn’t he crack a smile at the thought of days where he could do anything he wanted? And what exactly was sitting at the bottom of his stomach, heavy and uncomfortable, and why couldn’t it be shaken away?

He should have been ecstatic. He should have gone to Donghyuck, engulfed him in the biggest hug and said a million ‘ _thank you_ ’s to the only one who had believed he could do it. He should have walked away with him, arms linked, and talked about all the things they could do now that he had time. He should have smiled as he watched Donghyuck get worked up about some of the things Johnny had said, his cute half pout half frown reserved for when he was mad but couldn’t do anything to fix it. He should have been happy.

Instead, he could only find anger. Nesting in his guts, flowing through his veins, travelling under his skin, every inch of him consumed by feelings of distress and rage unlike anything he had ever known. He had tasted this anger once, when Donghyuck had confronted him about the purpose of his job, but never to this extent, never this long, this intense. This one was different, more raw and gripping, Mark stuck in its claws tightening around him.

Because of it, he too had said some pretty awful things. The whole ordeal could have gone peacefully, had Mark not been so eager to put Johnny back in his place. He could have explained in detail what was wrong, what made him want to leave, but no, he had to make an asshole of himself and drag everyone around town into this.

It was low of him to pull out the Jaemin card, and even worse to namedrop Ten. Johnny must have had given his all to make sure Jaemin would be fine; half of the things Mark had said were top-of-his-head things, theories with no relevant proof to back up he shouted without a care. No one in their right mind would have let Na Jaemin die, not Mark and certainly not Johnny. He knew it like he knew the sky was blue, and yet all logic flew out the window the second Mark felt his blood pump up faster.

Why did he have to be so furious, spit poison over City Center each time he opened his mouth, and why had he been unable to put an end to it? Was it satisfaction, adrenaline? A freeing sensation for the smallest of moments? Or was this all hidden inside him all along, crawling out of his eyes once the cage bars melted with Johnny’s resolve?

Either way, he needed to apologise. It was insensitive of him to put such accusations on the man keeping this city together, all the while using his weaknesses against him. It was unlike Mark, and he wanted to make it clear, make amends. Sure, he’d understand if Johnny denied, but for his own peace of mind, he knew he should do it.

But at the same time, should he? Johnny had played him in the start, using Mark’s weaknesses to get him on the garbage task no one wanted. _He_ had started this whole blame game. Should Mark apologise to the one who turned his life motionless and grayer than the unknown staring back at him?

The wind died down, its disappearance sudden, but welcomed by the warmth of the Sun peeking through the clouds. Mark could breathe a little easier now; a sign things would get better, if he dared hope. He didn’t know what it was about the Sun, but it had always had the power to calm him even when the future remained scary and unknown. Just like when— “Mark?”

Mark’s head snapped towards the sound, startled as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. His widened eyes looked up to meet Renjun’s equally surprised ones, the boy standing much closer than expected. “Oh, hey Renjun,” he waved, his friend mirroring the awkward gesture and adding a shy smile to it.

“What are you doing here?” Renjun asked with genuine curiosity. He was good at reading people; had they met like this any other day, the younger wouldn’t have hesitated to make his remark snarkier. He must have caught on Mark’s gloomy mood and opted for a friendly approach, and for it Mark was thankful. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you come to the beach, ever.”

“Too busy, I guess.” Mark shrugged, getting up on his feet and wiping the sand off his pants. “And I was about to head back, actually.”

“Oh,” was all Renjun said, and for a second Mark wondered if it had come out in a ‘ _now that you’re here I’m leaving_ ’ kind of way. It would have been the icing on the cake, but Renjun’s next question appeased his worries. “Is it okay if I walk with you?”

Mark gave him a small smile; he hadn’t realised how much he had missed hanging out with friends, even for the shortest moments. For the first time since he had ran off, his decision made sense. “Of course. It’s been so long since we talked.”

“True,” Renjun nodded, a laugh escaping his lips. He then seemed to remember something, eyebrows raising up comically, and he pointed behind his back using his thumb. “Want to use a shortcut? I know my way around better than you do. No offence.”

Oh yeah, he had missed this a lot more than he could imagine. Before knowing how dull and lifeless the world could get, he might have gotten worked up about Renjun’s words, but today, with his newfound freedom tucked inside his pockets, they rang like songs to his ears. “Not a fan of taking the long way home?” He asked, following Renjun’s lead as he walked along the shore, careful not to get his shoes in the water.

It was the younger’s turn to shrug. “I am on most days, but I prefer conveniency. Did you know that every water source leads back to City Center? Upstream or downstream, you can always find your way back,” he informed Mark. An uncanny fact anywhere else on Earth, but not so strange for Neo. “Works for all except one.”

Mark wasn’t sure if he were meant to hear the last part, his friend’s voice barely higher than a whisper, but as he did with most warnings signs in his life, he chose to ignore it. “Where does that one lead, then?”

Though when he was answered with the wind as only sound, he knew not to push it. Soon enough they were walking on land, still close by the water, but this time without sand trying to infiltrate his shoes. “Mark,” Renjun broke the silence, his pace slowing down. “Can I trust you with something?”

To Mark, Renjun was Dongyuck’s friend first and foremost. Sure, they were friends too, but nowhere near as close, even when compared to Jeno or Jisung. If Renjun had a list of the people he were the closest to, Mark was ninety percent sure to rank in the exact middle (last one being Jaehyun, for obvious reasons). So how could this make him the first choice? “Why me, though? There’s tons of people you’re closer to.”

From the corner of his eye, Mark could see Renjun gulping, his stare never leaving the ground in front of him. “I know, but I need advice. I don’t think Hyuck or the boys could help the way I need. Something inside me says I can’t trust the elders, and I don’t want to risk it. I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, biting on his lip before glancing at the older boy for a fraction of second. “Does that make sense? I feel like it doesn’t.”

Renjun couldn’t know how much sense his words it made to Mark. Before Donghyuck barged in and tore his feelings out of his chest – which he would be forever grateful for –, he had wondered the exact same thing. Who could he tell about his dilemma? The younger ones were too young, the elders too detached. It made perfect sense. But what also made sense was using this opportunity to tease the younger, something he hadn’t done in so long and offered on a silver platter. “So I’m your last choice, then?” He bumped his shoulder with Renjun’s, a sly grin on his lips.

“More like only choice,” Renjun answered, oblivious to the joking aspect of it all. Maybe Mark had gotten really bad at teasing, while busy with endless work and no social life. Or maybe what Renjun needed to talk about was much more serious than anticipated, and he should quit playing around before Renjun took it the wrong way.

“You can trust me,” Mark assured, grabbing Renjun’s shoulder and squeezing it lightly. _I hear you_ , it whispered, transported by the wind, becoming one with the clouds. “And if we’re being honest, I don’t trust the elders much either,” he empathised, once again knowing exactly what Renjun meant without having to further explain. They had more in common than Mark once thought, it seemed.

“I have to warn you,” Renjun snickered, a bitter and forced laugh he had to let out. He shook his head, as if even he had trouble wrapping his head around it. “It might sound a little weird, or even inconceivable, but… I need you to believe me.”

The words Mark had once said, repeated back to him. The same urgency, the same plea, begging to be heard. As long as the world kept turning, so would the need to be believed; and right now, it was Renjun’s turn to question the purpose of a world so intent on making him silent. “Oh, Renjunnie.” _If only you knew half the secrets I carry_. “You’d have to be saying something batshit crazy to scare me off, at this point—”

“Mark! Mark Lee!” He was interrupted, the all too familiar voice repeating his name from afar, then closer, until the one and only Donghyuck ran up to him in a bone-crushing hug taking the air out his lungs. Donghyuck had a knack for leaving him breathless, it seemed. “Where have you been? How did it go? You dumbass, leaving me out there to wait for you when you weren’t planning on coming back. Do you know how worried I was?”

Mark’s arms wasted no time in circling the boy’s waist as he spat his insecurities into the crook of his neck, words muffled but vibrating against his skin. “Donghyuck. Hey. I’m okay,” he reassured his best friend, rubbing circles behind his back. “More than okay.”

“Thought Johnny abducted you or something,” the younger scoffed, leaning away to look into his eyes. Relief flooded Donghyuck’s own, his doe eyes reflecting the Sun and pure fondness. Mark’s breath hitched at the sight. “I couldn’t hear your voice anymore.”

“Um,” Renjun coughed behind the two, making his presence known inside their private bubble. How could Mark have forgotten his presence just like that, ignored him so easily? They had been talking about something important to them both, but in a instant, Mark’s focus had shifted away, guilt now overtaking him as Renjun backed away from the pair, burying his hands deep in his pockets. “I guess I’ll leave you guys to it, then.”

Donghyuck’s arms fell from his neck as his own left the younger’s waist, Mark stepping towards Renjun. “Wait, what did you have to tell me?” Mark insisted, his wide eyes asking for forgiveness. He couldn’t let Renjun go knowing there was something weighing on his mind, and knowing he had failed to relieve him of it.

Renjun looked down, shaking his head and taking another step back. Then, a sigh, followed by an empty laugh, devoid of its pretty colours. “It’s nothing. It wasn’t that important.”

 _I need you to believe me_ , Renjun had said not five minutes earlier, contradictory to the words leaving his mouth. Mark had never felt like such a bad friend; this was worse than the numerous times he had almost made Donghyuck cry. “Tell me later. Okay? Promise me.”

Renjun offered a pained smile before walking away, leaving Mark to wonder if this were a positive answer, or if he had missed the only window Renjun would throw his way. If Renjun had no one but him, and he had blown up his chance… Also, why hadn’t Donghyuck even acknowledged his presence? Weren’t they best friends too?

He didn’t get to overanalyze the situation any further, as Donghyuck grabbed his hand by surprise, turning all his thoughts into instant mush.

“I have something to show you,” Donghyuck said, a knowing smile spreading across his lips, cute but cheeky; Mark couldn’t tell if this were a good or bad sign. With Donghyuck, one always had to be prepared to any eventuality. The younger tugged on Mark’s arm, bringing him closer. “And even if you don’t like it, please pretend you do,” he whispered, his breath fanning over Mark’s face, but before the older had the chance to react, Donghyuck turned the other way and started running, an unsuspecting Mark in tow.

“Woah, hey—” Mark almost tripped over his own feet, but Donghyuck just snickered, intertwining their fingers, strengthening their connection and sprinting with even more determination, if possible.

They ran and ran and ran, Donghyuck leading the way and giggling through the wind as he dragged Mark across the land, turning back only to mock the older’s flustered face. Mark couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Donghyuck so genuinely happy like this, unfiltered joy making his skin glow, his melodic laugh blessing Mark’s ears. He were out of breath, his feet were killing him and he was on the verge of collapsing as they kept going, their pace never faltering, but when Donghyuck smiled like that, Mark knew he would follow this boy to the ends of the Earth.

They slowed down, Donghyuck having run out of breath as well. It didn’t take long for Mark to recognise the neighbourhood they had walked into, and a frown settled on his face when he understood where Donghyuck had been leading him to, the both of them stopping on an all too familiar lawn.

“You wanted to show me… my house?” Mark squinted, trying to see if something had changed since he had last been here. Were the flowers different? Maybe they were, maybe Donghyuck was gifting him a new flower bed. The old ones must have died, and so his friend thought of bringing back the life around his lifeless house. Or maybe they were the same tenacious flowers from long ago, and Mark was looking exactly where he didn’t need to.

“Of course not, idiot,” Donghyuck groaned, shaking his head in disbelief. Not the greatest move on Mark’s behalf, even he had to admit. “It’s inside. Open the door,” he instructed, his sour face turning back into its usual brightness, mixed with what only Mark could tell was anticipation (his eyes would become wider then, and he would be unable to stay still, like playing with the hem of his long sleeves or shifting his weight from one leg to the other, two things he was now doing).

There must have been something quite dear to Donghyuck’s heart inside the house, Mark thought. What it could be, he didn’t have the smallest of clues, the younger staying unpredictable at all times as if his life depended on it. A gift? Either with great significance or handmade, for him to look both so excited and stressed; Mark could tell by the way he tightened his hold on their joined hands when he reached for the doorknob. He would have reassured him with the truth – anything coming from him held more value to him than his own life – had his words not been knocked out of him the second he saw what was on the other side.

Since the beginning of his stay in Neo, Mark had always come home to a house greeting him as a stranger. He hadn’t minded the generic furniture and blank walls, thinking they were adequate, serving their purpose, until someone with the brightest heart and a swooning smile showed him the real meaning of belonging, home. Afterwards, each time he entered his house, he couldn’t help but scrunch up his nose, wondering how he ever thought this was a sufficient way to live when there was so much more waiting for him on the other side of the door.

This house he was now entering too much time later was nothing of the empty shell he used to loathe. At first glance, he wasn’t even sure he had entered the right house; everything was the complete opposite of what it once was. The walls were now peach-tinted, frames of abstract paintings and drawings giving the living room a breath of life. He could see from the corner of his eyes the baby blue tones coming from the kitchen area, but he could barely process it right away, his mind blown away by the comfiest looking couches he had ever seen, with embroidered cushions and wool blankets. On the windowsill, a row of tiny potted succulents; in the corner, a small library filled with books; over the fireplace, a collection of crystals and shiny rocks; and last but not least, a handmade banner stretching across the room, painted letters reading ‘ _Welcome home, Mark!_ ’, complete with glitter and smiley faces.

It was the most Donghyuck thing Mark had ever seen, and he felt like his chest would collapse from trying not to cry.

“I felt like there might have been something wrong with your house, since you spend so much time at mine. I wanted to make it feel more homey, more you,” Donghyuck explained behind him, never letting go of his hand. “I had help, too. Ten, Doyoung, Kun and Taeyong moved the furniture. Jeno and Jaemin came over to paint the walls, until I had to kick them out for being gross, and Renjun helped with the drawings, too. It was more of a team effort, but yeah.”

Donghyuck was good, Mark recalled saying. Donghyuck was a good and caring friend, and of course he would get worried over Mark like he had done countless times before. It was true Mark spent most of his free time over at Donghyuck’s, but he had never considered it to be worrisome. The problem was never the house in itself, but more like the fact it could never give him what _Donghyuck_ could. He wasn’t running from home per say, but rather into his best friend’s arms. It always came back to Donghyuck, and Mark would never get tired of it.

He could feel his eyes water as he racked his brain for the right words to express of grateful, how happy he was, but couldn’t settle for any, an indescribable feeling washing over him as his eyes met Donghyuck’s. “Hyuck, I… I don’t know what to say.”

Donghyuck gave his hand a light squeeze, sensing the lump in Mark’s throat. He didn’t know what it was about the Sun calming him down, but it felt just like Donghyuck holding his hand. “You don’t need to say anything,” he smiled, his eyes sparkling as they turned into crescents. Mark didn’t remember Donghyuck being this cute and soft with the older boy, but he was far from complaining. “Come on, there’s more.”

The younger brought Mark towards the stairs, and as they climbed to the second floor, Mark found himself unable to look away from the portraits hung on the walls, letting go of Donghyuck’s hand. It took him a second, but soon he recognised all the faces as his friends, from Jisung and the boys to Jungwoo and Doyoung. Most of them were signed by Renjun, making Mark wonder when he had dethroned Ten as the artistic talent master, but some others were signed by the drawing of a Sun, the portraits recognisable by their stick-figures look. Mark fell in love each and every one of them.

Donghyuck coughed to grab his attention back, Mark climbing the stairs with a sheepish smile as a silent _sorry_ . “Your new bedroom,” Donghyuck tilted his head towards an open door, waiting to be revealed. “You better use it, I painted it all myself. I’d be sad if you didn’t,” he pouted, lips puckered, arms crossed over his chest. _A big baby_ , Mark thought.

Like the living room, the bedroom had been meticulously thought out. He finally understood why his friend had asked, out of the blue some time ago, what Mark’s favourite colour was; the mint walls harmonised with the green duvet of the bed, and the wooden furniture added a touch of nature to the quiet room. Like the living room, he loved what Donghyuck had done with it, but then again the problem had never been the room, but rather the fact Donghyuck existed in another, away from him.

Mark’s life was riddled with dilemmas. “Who’s going to hold me to sleep, if I’m all alone here?” He asked, mirroring Donghyuck’s expression, big pout and wide blinking eyes, except about ninety percent less effective.

His friend only scoffed, faking offense at Mark’s words and hitting his arm, a hint of red tinting his cheeks. “Who says I’ll be away?” Donghyuck laughed, warm, making the butterflies in Mark’s stomach go rogue. “I remade this entire house, best believe I’m using it. You won’t get rid of me that easily, Mark Lee.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” the butterflies propelled Mark to say, taken aback by the boldness of his statement, but owning up to it as he saw Donghyuck glance away, the red tint expanding along his smile. Mark looked away after a moment, his eyes catching a glimpse of another room across the hall. “What’s over there?” He asked, pointing in that direction and walking towards the new mystery, Donghyuck following suit.

If Mark recalled correctly, he had never used this room other than for storage, so seeing it devoid of material goods was as stark a contrast as if could get. The only thing left was a singular black box in the corner, noticeable against the blank walls. Mark frowned at his friend, confused at the change of atmosphere, but Donghyuck only shrugged, still trying to keep his red cheeks hidden from Mark. How endearing.

“I didn’t know what to make of this room, so I kept it empty. Thought it could be fun to do one room together, don’t you think?” The younger answered Mark’s silent question, finally looking up. The light coming in from the window hit the side of his face, making his skin glow even brighter. “Taeyong got me a speaker, said it could make for a dance floor. He said there was a bunch of that stuff in some rooms at City Hall and we were free to go check it out, if we wanted.”

“A dance floor?” Mark chuckled, getting closer to the machine. What looked like a CD player was laying on top of it, wires connected to the speaker underneath, and when Mark pressed the triangle button, a piano ballad rang through the air into their ears. Donghyuck let out a ‘ _whoah_ ’ from behind, and when Mark turned around to face him again – what prompted him to say these specific words next, he wasn’t so sure, but he would be eternally grateful for that moment –, the older held out his hand towards the younger. “Shall we dance, then?”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, Mark’s resolve taking a blow. “Ha, you’re funny,” he snickered, then stopped when he finally noticed Mark wasn’t bulging, his palm open towards him, inviting him to close the gap. Donghyuck’s face turned into the very frown Mark had worn earlier, the corners of his lips twitching in the slightest. “Wait, you’re serious?”

Mark took a tentative step forward, his fingers grazing the tip of Donghyuck’s, asking for permission. The younger didn’t move his hand away, looking everywhere but into the other’s eyes and giving him the smallest, cutest nod as he brought his arms around Mark’s neck, finally looking up. The Sun in his eyes coloured his irises honey, a thousand stars twinkling in his smile, and Mark rested his hands over his waist, drunk on the music and Donghyuck’s aura.

They followed the rhythm of the song, smooth and slow, swaying along the piano notes. It was clumsy in the beginning, Donghyuck giggling as their feet stepped over each other, but as the music progressed, so did they. Their bodies moved in synch, getting rid of teenage awkwardness and growing in confidence, the space between them shrinking each time they caught each other’s eyes. In a spur of the moment, Mark reached up for Donghyuck’s hand and made him swirl around the room, the younger unable to contain his laughter. When they got back into position, closer than ever before, Mark couldn’t hear the music anymore, muffled behind his deafening heartbeat.

“You’re not so bad at this,” Donghyuck teased in a tone playful enough for Mark to doubt the veracity of his praise. The quirk of his lips wasn’t helping, either, but he looked spectacular in this light and Mark wouldn’t mind being teased until the end of times if it meant this beautiful Donghyuck would stay by his side.

“You’re quite the dancer yourself,” Mark retorted, meaning every single word. There was so much depth to Donghyuck, so much more to discover; he was barely surprised anymore at the range of his secret talents. If anything, he wanted to find all of them. “I’m impressed.”

Donghyuck stopped playing with the hair at the nape of his neck to pinch him instead, getting an ‘ _ouch_ ’ out of the older. “Shut up, Mark.”

The song ended, changing into another with the same intimate vibe. They kept swaying to the beat, Donghyuck resting his head on Mark’s shoulder, his heart jumping out of his chest. It was unfair how crazy his whole body went around him, sweaty hands and sputtered words and heart attacks, but also, so much comfort, peace of mind, unadulterated happiness. Right now, with Donghyuck’s head on his shoulder, his curly hair tickling Mark’s neck, he couldn’t imagine anything better.

But even in paradise, the nagging in the back of his head wouldn’t catch a break. “You didn’t need to do all this, Hyuck,” Mark broke the silence, forever the conflicted, responsible boy he was forced to be. “This must have taken you so long. I don’t deserve it, all your time, your energy—”

“Hey, hey, don’t start thinking like that,” Donghyuck raised his head, the concern in his expression shutting Mark up before he could spiral any further. “I did this because I wanted to, Mark. You deserve it more than anyone else does. You did something very brave today, and I wanted to celebrate that,” he made clear, playing with Mark’s hair again. “I’m proud of you,” he added, his voice small, biting down a smile.

Donghyuck was good, and Mark was nowhere near as close. “I don’t feel brave,” he let out, his hold on the younger’s waist loosening. “I feel selfish.”

By saying no, he was letting down Neo and its citizens. By letting his true feelings out, he was influencing his friend into making him feel better. Anything Mark wanted for himself, he had to take it from someone else: their will, their days… How was he supposed to feel good about his choices, when all they did was tear others apart?

“And I don’t think that’s true,” Donghyuck objected, cupping the older’s cheeks. Mark wanted to cry; he didn’t deserve all this kindness coming from the one who had most suffered because of him, yet he was granted it anyway. “You’ve worked your ass off for people who never showed gratitude. You took the time to come see me even when you were too busy to function. You’ve kept the biggest secret eating at you because you knew it would hurt your friends. You taught me everything I know and beyond, without ever losing patience at my annoying ass. You’re not selfish, Mark Lee.”

Donghyuck’s fingers grazed at Mark’s cheeks, tracing his jaw, cheekbones, the curve of his nose. He looked so focused, inspecting every inch of Mark’s face, as if he wanted to remember each bump on his skin, number of eyelashes, shades in his eyes. Mark could tell, because he, too, never wanted to forget a single feature of Donghyuck, and he, too, had looked at the younger exactly like this more than he should have.

“Sometimes, I wonder,” Donghyuck started, hesitant, his eyes never leaving Mark. “What if this city had been full of thousands of people, or we had been outside Neo, would we have met each other? Who would have been my best friend, and what would that make of me?” He asked, questions Mark would have loved to have the answer to. Questions Mark had asked himself just as many times as Donghyuck did. “How different would my life be, without you in it?”

The right words came to him in the form of an epiphany. “Today, I met the me I would have become if we hadn’t crossed paths,” Mark recalled his disastrous morning, the rage, the yelling. “It scared me, how different, how angry I could have been all this time, without you. And as I watched it dig myself deeper, it only made me more grateful to have met you. The one who keeps the storms at large.”

Mark smiled, tucking Donghyuck’s hair behind his ears. “I think… I like to think any life I have, I’d spend it searching for you. I wouldn’t know what exactly I’m looking for, but I would never be me until I’d find my other half. I like to think whatever the circumstances, here in a filled city or outside with billions of places to be, we’d always find each other. Even if it took two days, two months or twenty years, I’d spend them all searching for you,” Mark confessed, the butterflies in his stomach going bezerk. Donghyuck had never looked so beautiful. “Any life of mine would not be complete without you in it.”

The music stopped as he finished talking, the two stopping their motion. “Mark,” Donghyuck called, taking in all he had said. “Can I ask you something?”

Mark nodded. “Anything.”

Donghyuck gulped, looking away for a second before coming back to Mark, as he always did. He took a deep breath, his bright eyes on the older speaking for themselves before his mouth could. “If I asked you to love me, would you do it?”

In a leap of faith, Mark brought their foreheads together, closer than ever before, yet never quite close enough. “You wouldn’t need to,” he answered. “I already do.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> INVENTED LOVE ?? UH YEAH I SURE HOPE THEY DID !!
> 
> a lot of things are happening at once... are you following closely?
> 
> thank u for supporting me & my work, thank u twice for the kudos and comments, i truly appreciate it with all my heart!! xoxo


	14. JAEHYUN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an ally might be the one thing jaehyun needs.

**xiv**. JAEHYUN

 

For the life of him, Jaehyun could not remember when or where he had gotten the red lighter. It hadn’t bothered him much not to know where it came from, like with most things in Neo which appeared from nowhere without any explanation. How’d the grocery store never run out of anything? No one cared enough to know, especially not him. And Jaehyun didn’t care for the lighter either, up until the spawn of a thousand demons named Huang Renjun snatched it from him in a moment of weakness. Then, it became a problem.

It kept him awake at night, tossing and turning, and earning (rightfully so) elbows to the ribs from an annoyed Doyoung trying to sleep. It wasn’t about losing the lighter; he had plenty of them, never ending supplies came to Neo every single day, and he had already lost a couple along the way. So how come this inconspicuous red lighter, out of all the others he had or could have, gave him such an uneasy knot in the stomach at the thought of it being far from reach?

It bugged him not to know, it bugged him to feel such worry, and it worried him to see himself so worried over a piece of plastic. As the days went by and the bruises on his ribs faded away, only to be brought back in another sleepless night, the question had to be asked: where did he even get it in the first place? Could it have come… from someplace else?

He remembered using it shortly after meeting Doyoung for the first time. He’d been having a lot of unnecessary feelings in those past few days, and needed to unwind. Burning down a house that belonged to no one in the suburbs would do the trick, he thought, but when Jaehyun woke up the next morning to perfectly intact walls, something else clicked, like a puzzle piece forced to fit in the wrong spot.

This place was fucking weird.

Yeah, the fact they were ten in a huge ass city should have tipped him off, but it only resounded within him when he was faced with the cold hard truth something else was at play. Something he had no control over, something controlling _them_. Stay in your lane, don’t ask questions, don’t cause disturbance, your efforts will be vain. Jaehyun used to be the passive type, letting others guide him and be responsible if things went south, and he was used to doing things that weren’t his first choice – he didn’t mind, really. But strip him of his freedom of choice completely, with nowhere else to turn to? This could stand; he’d have to retaliate, and take matter into his own hands.

The buildings were untouchable. He tried countless times, burning down City Center in its entirety – to the displeasure of the mayor’s son – multiple times, no could do. It didn’t feel right, not in the slightest. Shouldn’t dead things stay down? Ashes stay ashes? It only seemed logical. Then again, it wasn’t like Jaehyun had any other point of view to rely on. Any other city to compare it to.

Until something, or rather someone, proved him right. Jaehyun must have scared the newcomer out of his mind, but he didn’t care for that Johnny guy; he only cared for his reaction. And when Johnny gasped at the sight of a perfectly intact building Jaehyun had burned down in front of his eyes half a day ago, the local had his answer.

Well, more answers than he had bargained for, actually. One, there were places other than Neo, because where else could have Johnny come from? The void? Jaehyun would have prefered the void to this any day. Two, Neo worked in a way unlike those other places, if Johnny’s reaction was proof enough of something rather strange at play. Jaehyun had been right, his suspicions ringing true as the newcomer asked in a frightened voice if he was dreaming. And three, if there was a way in, there had to be a way out.

But here he was ages later, half a forest burnt down in the search for an exit nowhere to be seen, eight other people getting in (Neo straight up mocking him), an escaped citizen Jaehyun begged the stars to switch places with (proof he had been right all along), a despicable gremlin on his tail making his life more difficult than necessary (one day, Jaehyun would snap), and a random fucking _lighter_ making him lose sleep.

  
  


} {

  
  


“Good morning sunshine!” Jaehyun opened up the blinds, Sun rays directly hitting Doyoung’s face. The older groaned, squinting his already shut eyes, a frown growing on his face. “Let’s turn this day from good to great.”

Jaehyun swiftly ducked, avoiding the pillow thrown his way. Doyoung was not a morning person. “I’ll kill you, Jung Jaehyun,” he threatened, his sweet voice laced with sleep contrasting with the words he mumbled half awake. Doyoung could be a bit of an asshole at times, but threatening? He could wish all he wanted, no one would grant him that one. “Do this one more time and you’ll never see the light of day again.”

“You’re cute when you’re angry, babe,” Jaehyun disregarded, planting a kiss on Doyoung’s cheek and swatting away the fist targeting his face. “I’ll be on my way. I made eggs in the kitchen, so you should get out of bed soon or else they’ll be cold. Wouldn’t want you to get even grumpier than you are now,” he winked.

The sleepy head whined, unwrapping his body from the covers in defeat with an over exaggerated sigh. His hair was sticking out of place, the sight making Jaehyun break into a smile. “How in the world do you have this much energy in the morning?” Doyoung asked, his tone almost accusative, if not offended. “You barely even sleep. That’s not fair.”

Jaehyun got closer to the bed, bending in order for his face to be hovering Doyoung’s. “I am powered by my love for you, Kim Doyoung!” He exclaimed, a taunting smile decorating his lips, wide awake and energised just by looking at the sleepy man he could claim his. It had taken him long enough to make a definitive move, he wasn’t wasting any of the chances he had now.

Doyoung rolled his eyes at his exasperating antics, grabbing the back of Jaehyun’s neck and pressing their lips together. Jaehyun gasped into the kiss, taken aback by the man’s sudden confidence, and twisted himself out of Doyoung’s grip, nose scrunched up in disgust. “Ugh, morning breath, Do!”

“Serves you right, asshole,” Doyoung smirked, pecking Jaehyun’s lips once again out of spite before poking his cheek. “Good luck and go already. I can’t stand your stupid face.”

With one last mouthed ‘ _Love you_ ’ and an endearing ‘ _Go away_ ’, Jaehyun left their shared apartment. He had moved in with Doyoung not long after they had officially started dating, although they had been living together for much, much longer. Jaehyun would have preferred for Doyoung to move to his place instead, one of the many houses in the suburbs with plenty more space than these three rooms, but Doyoung had refused, saying he couldn’t possibly leave knowing Chenle and Jisung would be staying in the block with no adult supervision. Classic Doyoung. But that was how he liked him.

He had to knock off the Doyoung thoughts for the day, though. He had something important planned out and couldn’t let anyone get in his way, physically or mentally. He’d have plenty of days to think about all the little endearing things Doyoung did, but what he needed to do today, he couldn’t afford to push back any longer. For his own sake.

Time may have passed, but Neo remained just as weird as it used to be, maybe more. Having Doyoung as a constant in his life hadn’t changed that in the slightest, only made it more bearable as people kept coming in from this open door he couldn’t see, as others showed abilities as unusual as fireproof buildings, as the days got darker and then brighter, yet to get darker again. He had Doyoung by his side now, but the initial thought remained: there had to be another city outside, someplace better elsewhere, and Jaehyun would do everything in his power to reach it. And if the fire wouldn’t work, he’d have to try with something just as explosive.

He could see a figure by the entrance of City Center, hitting some rocks with a stick. He felt his shoulders relax as he recognised it to be Donghyuck, his curly hair a telltale sign, as well as the groans that left his mouth with every missed attempt. Jaehyun liked the boy, to some extent – he was best friend with the _fucker_ , which couldn’t be excused, but he was still rather entertaining. City Council was much more amusing with this little ball of snarky comments, and Jaehyun was glad for his presence.

Donghyuck caught sight of him as well, waving at the older to come closer. Jaehyun could hear some yelling in the background, words unintelligible from afar, but the younger didn’t seem too phased by it, discarding his stick as Jaehyun approached.

“What a coincidence, just as I was thinking of you,” Donghyuck greeted, confusion etching on Jaehyun’s face. The younger seemed to notice, waving off his suspicions with a click of the tongue. “Don’t be weird. I have something you might be interested in, that’s all.”

Intriguing. Jaehyun had time for a simple story, better yet if he were getting something out of it. His little mission could wait a few more minutes. “I’m listening.”

“I’m moving in with Mark later today,” Donghyuck informed him, a tiny, but growing smile on his face. Damn, boy was whipped. Young love, how cute. “Well, he doesn’t know yet, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him, but yeah—”

“Wait, you weren’t together already?” Jaehyun interrupted, brought back to reality after realising exactly what the boy had said. He was convinced they were already an item, so was Doyoung, and honestly, so was half the town. Mark and Donghyuck had fooled them all this long without even realising it? Fuck, Jaehyun was getting less attentive to the stuff happening around him. Hence the importance of the mission. “Actually, don’t answer that. Not my business. Keep going,” he urged. He didn’t have to time to get acquainted with all the details, not today. He’d make sure to pester the boy about it later.

But Donghyuck didn’t get to keep going, steps coming towards them breaking the flow of their conversation. Jaehyun couldn’t tell where they were coming from, but as he saw Ten coming around the corner of a building, brows furrowed and hands tightened into fists, he didn’t need to wonder anymore. Ten’s face fell at the sight of the two, regaining his composure in an instant, as if he had never showed any sign of – what was it, pain? Anger? Whichever it was, both felt foreign on him.

“Morning,” the intruder said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Isn’t today great?”

The early morning Sun had now been covered by gray clouds looming over Neo, accompanied by a cold breeze travelling through the city. Great wouldn’t have been the exact word Jaehyun would have used, but he knew Ten was never really asking about the weather in the first place.

“It is,” Jaehyun nodded, asking with his eyes if everything was alright. Either Ten didn’t notice, or chose not to answer, looking away from the perplexed duo. “That’s what I said this morning, too.”

“Great,” Ten repeated, mindlessly nodding along. His head was somewhere else, deep in thought. Donghyuck looked between the two older, trying to decipher the hidden clues left in their sentences, but even Jaehyun wouldn’t be able to tell if he looked hard enough. Ten gulped, the fakest smile Jaehyun had ever seen plastered across his traits. “I’ll see you around, boys.”

Donghyuck and him watched as Ten walked away, his whole body stiff and unwelcoming, rounding the corner of a building and disappearing out of their sight. A complete opposite to his usual light steps, movements alike of a dance. But as always, when had things ever been normal, here in Neo?

“So… that was a little disturbing,” Donghyuck spoke up, scratching the back of his head.

Jaehyun shrugged, patting the top of the younger’s hair. “Must be having a rough day,” he reasoned. It wasn’t like they were going to get answers anytime soon; the best was to keep going, pretending the world hadn’t stopped turning for a minute. It happened far too often to let it get to their heads. “Anyway. What were you saying?”

Donghyuck’s eyes widened, looking up trying to remember where he had left off. “Oh yeah! I’m moving away, so you can burn down my house if you want,” the boy offered, looking at Jaehyun expectantly. It touched him to know the younger had thought about him and his hobbies, something Donghyuck hadn’t needed to do at all. Maybe Doyoung was right to like these teens. “I know it’s not as fun as with living things or whatever, but I’m…” The boy looked away, wondering how to phrase what he had in mind, and Jaehyun could already tell it wasn’t in his favour. “I’m concerned about Renjun.”

Okay, so it wasn’t about him after all. Yeah, made more sense. Fuck these children. “You’re not giving me the possibility; you’re asking me to do it,” Jaehyun deadpanned, less and less interested about the offer and more about leaving to do what he had been putting off for this disappointment of a news.

Donghyuck let out a nervous laugh, fiddling with his fingers. “Pretty much, yeah. It’s not like I’ll be losing anything since it’ll grow back. I just—” He sighed, looking back up with pleading eyes, crumbling Jaehyun’s resolve little by little. “If you could, like, not touch the trees for today? I know you don’t like him, but would you do it for me?”

If only he didn’t harbour a secret soft spot for the boy. Damn it. “Fine. You’re lucky I like you,” Jaehyun gave in, rather excited at the prospect of burning down a house after so long. Yeah, the trees never grew back, but the experience wasn’t the same. Walls crashing onto each other, ceilings falling down, creating a cloud of fiery sparks amongst the ashes, a sensation unlike any other. A stark contrast to the harmless trees, abandoned by Neo. “What’s up with him, though?”

Jaehyun must have grown a second head for Donghyuck to look at him like that, brows furrowed and mouth agape, before collecting himself, clearing up his throat. “I wish I knew. He came by the other day to help me draw portraits and animals for Mark, but then he… I don’t know, panicked and left? It was sudden,” the boy recalled, still troubled by the events, voice wavering as he spoke. Then, a blank expression covering his face like a veil, and eyes looking up to Jaehyun, questioning. “Do you hear that?”

Jaehyun halted his train of thought, focusing on the sounds of the city. “What, the wind? I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly,” Donghyuck nodded, a growing frown carved into his skin. “Err, gotta go. Good talk!” And just like that, the boy ran off into the city as if his life depended on it, no explanation thrown Jaehyun’s way. Weirdly enough, this was probably going to be the most normal thing to happen today. He couldn’t complain.

And with the kid gone, he could now get down to business. The man had places to be, people to talk to – well, one person, to be exact –, sneaky plans to put into action. Jaehyun had already taken up a good chunk of his own time; he couldn’t afford his future acolyte to be gone by the time he’d knock on his front door.

Jaehyun had built the idea around one simple fact he had grown to learn over the past however long he had been here: if there was one thing Neo was scared of, it was the unpredictable. Hansol’s sudden departure had been proof enough, with the weather getting all sorts of fucked up and the powered individuals experiencing technical difficulties to a painful degree. Something like this, someone leaving, had never been planned or meant to be. Unpredictability, the enemy of Neo’s control.

There were very few things out of Neo’s control. The people, for example. Not for long, though, because in a swift change of weather, Neo could bend them to its will again. The fire, when used on things Neo didn’t care enough to save. Most of all, grandest of all threats, the outside world. Which couldn’t be much of a threat, if no one knew it existed.

But they knew, now, all of them. Jaehyun knew, and Jaehyun wanted it. And someone else knew better, fresher than any of them, and this person wanted it even more. The most unpredictable factor to happen to Neo in its existence would always be a newcomer, their memories untouched and full of the other side. Worse if said newcomer refused to submit, refused to let go. Exactly the type Jaehyun was looking for.

The narrow house in between two apartment blocks looked lonely and out of place, with its bleak colour and outdated window frames, but it did have a personality, which the rest of City Center couldn’t say for themselves. A house fitting for its occupant, disconnected from this world he was never meant to fit in, but wearing an unusual spark like no other.

Jaehyun had worried over nothing; when the door opened to reveal a yawning Yukhei in sweatpants and a hoodie pulled over his head, he could tell the younger hadn’t been planning on going anywhere. Still groggy from being woken up, Yukhei’s eyes took time to settle on Jaehyun, a loud exhale coming from his nose. Yeah, the one at his door wasn’t the love of his life like Yukhei would have preferred, but he didn’t have to make such a fuss about it.

Okay, low blow. The guy wasn’t in tiptop shape, and Jaehyun hadn’t come all the way here to criticise his mannerisms, probably unintended anyway. “Can I come in?” Jaehyun asked, an eyebrow raised. For a fraction of second, he wondered what excuse he would need if the other declined, but Yukhei took a step back to let the unexpected visitor in, rubbing his eyes.

“Sicheng sent you?” The host presumed, dragging his feet on the old wooden floor as he led Jaehyun to the living room. Yukhei had a nice place; antique furniture, an old chimney, golden floral tapestry, traces of the past mixed with the present in a motorcycle helmet on the coffee table, a framed poster of a movie Jaehyun had never heard of, and a bizarre geometrical lamp almost as long as the room’s height. Not to forget the open kitchen area with its pure white appliances, a pinch of future thrown into the mix. Again, odd, but fitting.

“I sent myself,” Jaehyun replied, admiring the set up. The couch looked old enough to crumble under the slightest weight, but he disregarded the warning signs and sat down nonetheless, watching from afar Yukhei stumble into the kitchen.

“Can I, uh, get you anything? I think I have orange juice,” Yukhei offered, opening up the fridge before Jaehyun could decline. He grabbed a carton, unscrewing the lid, and scrunched up his nose in disgust as he smelled its content. “Yeah, this isn’t orange juice anymore.”

Next to the fancy helmet laid a book with a bright orange cover, yellow lettering spelling out _The Lord of the Flies_. The name didn’t ring a bell; foreigner things never did, anyway. Just the more reason to leave this hellhole and discover all those things he was never meant to know. “What are you reading?” Jaehyun wondered out loud, curiosity getting the best of him as he let his fingers trace over the letters.

“Oh, that? Kun gave it to me,” Yukhei replied, pouring expired juice down the sink, free hand covering his nose. How long had it been since the boy had last opened his fridge? He didn’t look well enough to go and eat out by himself either. Could this be cause for concern? “It’s about some boys stuck on an island, but it goes kind of wrong. Well, a lot, actually.”

Yukhei rinsed the carton and left it on the counter, joining Jaehyun in the living room again. He took a seat across his guest, the latter wondering if he should keep playing polite or ask the host about his state of mind. Jaehyun gulped, looking back down at the book. “Why do you think Kun gave you this?” He chose the safer option. He could always ask later, once he’d gotten what he needed to say out of his chest.

The younger shrugged, hugging a cushion to his chest. ‘ _Home sweet home_ ’, it read. “To show me it could be worse? Or to bond; that’d be a Kun thing to do. Either way, in the long run, to get me to stay,” he sighed, looking out the window. Since Yukhei had arrived, Jaehyun had never seen such sorrow veiling his eyes. There must have been something going on, something deeper than the simple explanation they had heard in whispers across town: ‘it’s over’. “I’ve read it about four times now, but I don’t think it could ever get this bad for us. ‘Cause here, we’re—”

“We’re not completely alone,” Jaehyun finished, hopping on his train of thought. Yukhei looked at him, surprise drawn on his face, and nodded. Neo’s higher control, stripping them of their freedom of choice, he felt it too. He would be even easier to convince, Jaehyun thought. “Never quite left to ourselves.”

Yukhei shifted in his seat. Uncomfortable with the situation or the words ringing truer than they should have, Jaehyun couldn’t tell. “Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled, before finally setting his eyes on the older. Sadness looked estranged on him. “So… what are you here for?”

Alright, now was the time to pull all the convincing arguments he had brewed up on all those nights he couldn’t sleep. Jaehyun cleared his throat. “I have an offer I thought you’d be interested in.”

The younger leaned back in his seat. He must have thought Jaehyun was bringing some bad news, his shoulders relaxing as soon as he let out his statement. “Any distraction from this, I’ll take it,” Yukhei chuckled, the empty laugh filling up the room. Melancholia in a sound.

 _Here goes nothing_. “I want you to hear me out on this. It might sound far fetched, but know I would never bullshit you about something of this importance,” Jaehyun promised, a warning something bigger than both of them was at play. “It starts with a long story.

“You weren’t there when it happened, but when Hansol left, it took us all some time to find out. About a day, at most,” he reminisced, the memory stranded in a lake of all the things Neo tried to forget. “Taeyong hadn’t seen him in a while and was growing worried, so he called out on his speakers for everyone to gather at around City Center. Hansol was nowhere to be seen.

“In the panic, we all ran around, trying to find where he could be. None of us knew where he was. And when I mean none of us, that included Johnny as well. Johnny, who brags about knowing where we are at all times, couldn’t tell where Hansol was, which was unprecedented. But it also meant he must have known exactly when Hansol had slipped off his radar, and hadn’t thought to tell any of us then. Why didn’t he tell us as soon as it happened? Wouldn’t it be weird for him to experience, a sudden disappearance in his perfect little system?”

Yukhei scoffed and rolled his eyes at the mention of Johnny’s name, but leaned forward, the story piquing his interest. A good sign, encouraging Jaehyun to continue. “It could have malfunctioned, the spell wore off late and he didn’t notice the change in time. Something along those lines. Or maybe, and this is where it gets off-road, it had happened before. Maybe his detector stopped working on someone for no reason, and so when it happened again with Hansol, he didn’t say anything. He thought it was the same problem. Except, as we know, it wasn’t.

“When Hansol left, the detection disappeared. But before that, someone else’s detection must have disappeared the same way, someone who’s still in Neo. How would the detection wear off for them, then?”

Jaehyun looked at Yukhei, only to find him staring straight back at him, a newfound determination twinkling in his previously distressed eyes. “For the same reason,” Yukhei answered. “Because they got out too. Someone else found the way out, and they came back again.” Those nights he couldn’t find peace, Jaehyun had theorised the same thing: both defections had happened the same way. Neo didn’t allow mistakes; the two disappearances had to be the same. The only difference being the individual’s choice in the end, a choice the city would never have control over once they had reached the other side.

Yukhei’s eyes were wide and, for the first time, full of hope, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “One of us knows the exit, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun nodded, ecstatic about the prospect of someone else wanting the same thing as him. The finish line had never seemed so close. “My offer is that we work together to figure out who they are, and extract the information out of them. It isn’t something I can do alone, and that’s why I came to you. Would you help me out?”

The boy didn’t answer right away, shifting in his seat again. He looked out the window, his smile faltering as he searched the emptiness of the city, and Jaehyun was growing worried he had lost him for good when Yukhei spoke up. “If it’s going to piss Johnny off, I’m all in.”

Jaehyun would have expected an answer along the lines of ‘ _Hell yeah, I’ve been waiting so long for this!_ ’, but this, he hadn’t seen coming. Didn’t the guy dream of leaving ever since he had gotten here? Why would his reason for helping Jaehyun be _Johnny_ , of all people? The host was unusually vocal about his disdain for the elder, today; there had to be something lurking under the surface. “I take it you’re not a fan,” Jaehyun remarked, hoping to get a reaction out of the younger.

Yukhei’s eyes never left the window, but his grip on the armrests tightened, knuckles turning white. There was an intensity in his eyes, brooding and dark, threatening to spill. “What you told me only strengthened something I already knew. Someone with so many secrets can’t be trusted, especially if they claim to be a leader,” he stated, his fingernails scratching the fabric. “All his lies are going to fall onto his face one day, and when it happens, he’ll have no one to blame but himself.”

His eyes spoke with wrath, but his voice spelled regret. Jaehyun bit the inside of his cheek, debating if he should voice the question on his mind. There was no way he could tell what would be Yukhei’s reaction, but at the same time, Jaehyun had promised himself earlier to ask how he felt. This was an opening, and even if the door slammed shut in his face, he could always say he tried. “Is this about…” Jaehyun trailed off, letting the boy finish for himself.

Yukhei looked back at him. He had understood, but he wasn’t mad; instead, his eyes had gone softer than Jaehyun had ever seen them. They were expressive, the door to Yukhei’s mind an open book. “Johnny has never liked me. That time I tried running off into the gray area… It’s like he’s never forgiven me. I’m pretty sure he roped in the guy with mind healing abilities to calm me down. Can’t disrupt the order if you don’t remember your rage,” he explained, always the elusive one, but Jaehyun knew how to read between the lines.

But this time, Jaehyun didn’t agree. “That… doesn’t make sense, actually,” he frowned. “The taming part does, but Johnny’s smarter than that. Yeah, Jungwoo heals minds and shit, but with the headaches, that’d just be torture for the poor guy. Johnny would have chosen someone else rather than hurt his image like that.” It reminded him of the Mark situation, in a way; it had been Johnny’s idea all along, yet when he asked the Council to vote, the blame passed onto them. For a ploy like this, he’d have to deal with the consequences alone. Everyone loved Jungwoo, and everyone knew of Jungwoo’s pain; Johnny wouldn’t be able to get away with it.

The host was frozen in his seat, Jaehyun noticed, but didn’t think much of it until he spoke up. “What headaches?”

It was Jaehyun’s turn to freeze, his breath stuck in his throat. Did Yukhei really ask him that? “Jungwoo’s headaches,” he clarified, fingers crossed for Yukhei to remember what he should have definitely known by now. But instead his brows furrowed, a hint of panic flashing across his face. He didn’t know what the older was talking about, and it was now Jaehyun’s time to panic as well. “Fuck, Yukhei, please tell me you’re joking.”

Yukhei didn’t say a thing, looking increasingly worried as time went by and none of them tried to break the silence. They were fucked. “And what about them?” Yukhei let out after a while, unable to withstand the tension any longer. Jaehyun was baffled; how could he not know? How could he not be aware of his boyfriend’s condition, when he was the main perpetrator?

Jaehyun pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I’m the one telling you,” he exhaled, eyes shut, wincing at the thought. Nothing good could come out of this. “You know Jungwoo can tell how we’re feeling, right? All the time?” He opened his eyes to see Yukhei nodding. Okay, not all was lost. “Well, when these feelings get too intense, it gives him a headache. Like he has trouble processing everything, and so he feels everything all at once.”

The one time Jaehyun needed to know what went on in Yukhei’s head, his expression remained blank, devoid of the colours Yukhei usually showed. Nothing in his eyes, nothing on his face, even his fingers had released their hold on the armrests. Jaehyun had no choice but to continue in hope the boy would show his true feelings. “It wasn’t always like this. Taeyong was a mess when Hansol left. That’s when it started. It was so bad we had to take Jungwoo as far as we could from him, through the storm even. He had trouble standing and shit, he couldn’t hear us calling out his name. Couldn’t stop crying ‘cause it hurt too much. But the further he got from City Hall, the better.”

There was more to the story, one last part Jaehyun wasn’t so sure he should mention. But had he been in Yukhei’s shoes, Jaehyun would have wanted to know. “One day, he almost fainted, out of nowhere. Later, we found out someone new had arrived.” _You_ , he almost added, but Jaehyun figured the boy would connect the dots.

Yukhei’s theory couldn’t be true. Johnny might have been manipulative and secretive, but he wasn’t a straight up monster. Johnny had seen the effects of emotions on Jungwoo like the rest of them, and he had stepped up to help as best he could. He had been the one suggesting to take him away from the source of his pain; if he didn’t want him to feel this way then, he surely wouldn’t want it now.

Johnny couldn’t have asked this of Jungwoo, knowing the newcomer had brought this much despair to the healer in the simple act of showing up, mundane compared to the heartbreak felt by the mayor’s son on the gloomiest night Neo had ever experienced. No one in their right mind would have pushed Jungwoo towards Yukhei. The only way they would have found their way to each other, was if Jungwoo himself had chosen to take the step forward.

Yukhei still wasn’t saying anything, and it was starting to piss Jaehyun off – _say something, anything, for fuck’s sake_ – until the younger leapt out of his seat, pacing around the room with both hands covering his face. He stopped as he got in front of the fireplace, unveiling his tortured expression, arms falling to the side. “So, all this time, I’ve been hurting him? Before I even knew him?” He murmured, taking a deep breath and blinking, trying to decipher the unbelievable. “But why would— Oh, fuck.”

The boy put his hands behind his head, mouth gaping like a fish as he crouched down, folding up his whole body into a tiny ball of dejection in the middle of the living room, the atmosphere turning into ice. He put a hand over his mouth, travelling up to his eyes, his head dropping down. “I yelled at him.”

Jaehyun didn’t know the details of their breakup, but by the way Yukhei was reacting, it hadn’t been pretty. There was no way it could have been, not with Jungwoo experiencing two different people’s amplified emotions at the same time – Yukhei’s and his own – and Yukhei being… well, himself. “Why would he stay, then?” Yukhei kept going, eyes squinted shut, fingers to the temples. “Why would he do this to himself, if I brought him nothing but pain?”

 _Because that’s what love does to people, dumbass_. A bit like agreeing to move in a smaller apartment because your significant other wanted to stay closer to his not-even-adopted kids. Times three hundred. “I think you know, Yukhei,” Jaehyun replied.

Yukhei sat down on the floor, legs crossed, his gaze towards the fire, reflected in his irises, the flames extinguished from all the sadness he exuded. “I broke both our hearts for nothing at all,” he let out, shaking his head. If only Jaehyun had known what the day would bring, he’d have gotten prepared for this meltdown, equipped in the slightest. Now, he could only watch from the side, afraid to reach out to the younger as the boy let a tear roll down his cheek. “I accused him of all these things… and now he’s being kept away from me, because of me. I’m a terrible person.”

This fucking day was turning into a nightmare, at this point; Jaehyun had not planned dealing with a self-deprecating mess on his daily checklist, yet here he was, standing up from his seat to pat Yukhei’s back – and yes, it felt as weird as it sounded. “Come on. You couldn’t know,” he tried, awkwardly grinning, hoping for Yukhei to snap out of it as soon as possible. He didn’t have all day; he had someone to catch, and a house to burn.

In a surprising twist, his hopes were met: Yukhei got up, brushing off the hand on his back in an instant. But instead of the boy catching his breath, wiping his tears and getting back to the couch, he beelined straight to the coat rack, grabbing the first jacket he came across. “Hey, where are you going?” Jaehyun frowned, shocked by the sudden movements of the boy weeping on the floor not seconds ago. What did he have in mind, now?

“I need to go find him. I need to apologise,” Yukhei said, rummaging through a closet to take out a pair of sneakers. Nothing had ever seemed as pressing as doing this, with the way he slipped them on his feet faster than he had ever blinked in Jaehyun’s direction.

Yukhei running off also hadn’t been part of Jaehyun’s plan, far from it. “What about our thing?” He let out, taking a step towards the boy buttoning his jacket with shaky fingers, groaning each time he failed to find the right hole. Jaehyun placed a hand over the younger’s arm, a comfort attempt to prompt him to stay, but Yukhei shook him off again, striding toward the front door.

The boy let his hand rest on the doorknob. “I’m sorry, Jaehyun. I can’t help you,” he looked up to the older. “I can’t think about leaving right now. As long as I haven’t found Jungwoo, I can’t help you.”

He understood the boy’s motivations. He really did, yet it couldn’t stop the sigh from leaving Jaehyun’s lips. He had been so close to getting what he wanted, but now it was slipping between his fingers, pushed by the wind into the air, the sky, hopes unreachable until they fell back as rain. He had held on to the possibility of getting out for so long; to see it leap even further away felt like a slap to the face from Neo’s own hands. “What about after?” Jaehyun tried one last time, a silent plea for the boy to prove all wasn’t lost.

“We’ll see when we get there,” Yukhei answered instead, turning the doorknob and letting the fresh air hit Jaehyun’s face before stepping out of the house. “I’ll take all the happy endings I can get.”

  
  


“Doyoung,” Jaehyun called out as soon as he got back to the apartment, out of breath from the flight of stairs he had climbed up like his life depended on it, running straight into their bedroom and shaking his sleeping boyfriend’s shoulder. “Doyoung, baby, you need to wake up.”

Doyoung groaned, holding the covers closer to his chest. “What did I tell you yesterday, Jaehyun?” He muttered between gritted teeth, rolling away from him. “You’re dead to me.”

Jaehyun released his hold on him, trying to keep his breathing steady. “I know, and I am really sorry, but you need to see this,” he justified, sitting on the bed next to Doyoung, facing his back. _Please look at me, baby_. “I’m not kidding this time.”

Something in his voice must have betrayed him, for Doyoung turned around to face him and groggily opened his eyes. The longer they stayed on Jaehyun, the wider they grew, his forehead turning into a frown, reaching out a hand towards his face. “Jae? Is something wrong?”

Jaehyun gulped, then nodded. “Please, come with me,” he requested, meeting Doyoung halfway and grabbing his hand. “You’ll understand, I promise. Do you trust me?”

He gave Doyoung time to wake up and change before grabbing his hand again, running down the stairs into the city. Yesterday, Jaehyun had thought he had no time to lose over asking Yukhei the most benign thing in the world; today, he didn’t know how much time he had, and he couldn’t waste any of the seconds offered to him. Any of the second he could spend with Doyoung, too.

His boyfriend must have been dazed by sleep, for he didn’t utter a single word throughout the entirety of the way, running alongside Jaehyun without any complains. The latter was sorry for waking him up, sorry for dragging him into this, but what he had found out earlier in the morning was too much for him to take in. After all he had been through, after all the fucked up shit Neo had thrown at him, he couldn’t bear this one alone. Maybe Doyoung would regret ever being roped into this, but for Jaehyun’s sake, he hoped he’d forgive him.

As they got closer, the smell of smoke grew stronger. Jaehyun had never hated the smell of smoke this much until now. They stood in front of the pile of ash, hands still linked, waiting on Doyoung to come to the same conclusion, but he was instead met with yelling.

“Are you kidding me right now, Jung Jaehyun? You wanted to show me another burned down house and that’s it?” Doyoung fumed, his piercing laser-beam gaze on Jaehyun, who could swear his eyes had turned darker all of a sudden.

Jaehyun had thought it to be so obvious, so jaw-dropping, he hadn’t prepared to the eventuality Doyoung’s recently awoken brain might not see the same thing he did. “No, that’s not— It isn’t just another burned house. Look at the ash,” he instructed, tugging Doyoung closer to the pile. Wasn’t it so evident, though? Jaehyun was so used to the process, the slightest difference from the usual rang like apocalypse sirens to his ears. “There are no sparks anymore, Do. None. This fire is dead.”

Doyoung’s angry frown soon morphed into a concerned one, the hardened expression on his face falling as he looked back at Jaehyun with fear in his eyes. Jaehyun must have looked the same, for Doyoung tightened the hold on his hand. “Jaehyun,” he whispered, both afraid Neo would overhear, “how long does it take for a fire to die?”

Jaehyun took a deep breath, looking into the distance. The horizon stretched to eternity, colours fading into plain dullness, like it did every other day. “I never got to find out,” he said, tearing his eyes away from the endless gray. But today wasn’t any other day, whether he liked it or not. “The morning would always reset things up.”

The wind blew some of the ashes over their feet, staining their shoes for good. There had been no easy way to say this, and even nature wasn’t thrilled about it. Much less so Doyoung. “You’re telling me… this is from yesterday?” His boyfriend came to the conclusion, biting down his lips out of nervosity.

Jaehyun nodded. “Donghyuck told me I could use it, and so after talking with Yukhei, I did,” he refreshed the older’s memory, having talked about their respective days at dinner the night before. “I let you sleep this morning and went over to check, like I always do. In case the impossible happens, you know?” He scoffed, a bitter edge to his voice as he looked down to the ashes scattered at his feet. “But what do you do when, after all this time, it finally does happen?”

These buildings he had tried getting rid of countless times were now failing to stand up like they used to do so easily. The one time he let the trees go, Jaehyun had been cursed to find a malfunction. How long had it been like this? Was this a today thing, or would he have found out earlier, had he kept trying on neighbourhoods? And since when had Neo the almighty started neglecting its possessions?

“What does it mean for us now? All of us?” Doyoung asked the next question on his mind, shuffling closer to him. Jaehyun wished he had an answer rather than an depressing hypothesis, but what were to happen next couldn’t be positive. The unlimited supplies of food might stop materialising into thin air. The weather could go bonkers again. Someone could get hurt, and there would be no way Neo could fix it. Who knew what else Neo’s system could fail them on? Literally anything; they were, and had always been, at the mercy of this place, its control surrounding every living or material thing. If the city crumbled before they could reach the exit point, well, it’d be over for them too.

“I don’t know. I really don’t,” Jaehyun let out, opting for honesty. Pretending all was fine and lying about this wouldn’t help anyone, not Doyoung, not himself, only delay the inevitable. Better be ready for any eventuality.

A spot of colour entered his field of view, catching his eye – and his breath. “Holy fuck, is that—”

Jaehyun had seen the drawings on the information board, but he had always found them too ridiculous to have a semblance of realism. He shouldn’t have underestimated Ten’s talent; in front of them, the exact copy of said drawing was fluttering over the ashes, unaware of the mess the small creature could cause. Jaehyun had never seen a butterfly in the flesh, and now that he had, he regretted every second of it.

He tried stepping in front of Doyoung, hoping to block the view of the bad omen, but the hand Doyoung placed on Jaehyun’s shoulder told him he had seen enough already. “We’re fucked,” Doyoung muttered. This was the first time he swore in front of Jaehyun, and it was awfully appropriate; none had forgotten what had happened the last time a butterfly had infiltrated the city, certainly not Doyoung.

“It might be nothing. A— A coincidence,” Jaehyun reasoned, unconvincing even to himself. There hadn’t been enough instances to form a true pattern, and the whole ordeal _could_ be nothing more than a coincidence. But in Neo, things rarely worked that way, and both knew, rendering his words useless in front of the forces of nature playing against them. “We can’t tell Johnny about this.”

He thought Doyoung might dispute it, but the latter said nothing, holding on to Jaehyun’s hand and letting his head rest on the younger’s shoulder. “Jae… what happens next, now?”

Jaehyun watched the butterfly flutter away. If anything happened to Doyoung because of it, he would hunt it down to the ends of the Earth. “Let’s hope we don’t have to find out.”

  
  


PART 3 } { WHIRLWIND

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UH OH !
> 
> last part coming up... are you ready?? lemme hear u make some noiiiise!!


	15. CHENLE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in dreams or awake, chenle doesn’t know which he is.

**xv**. CHENLE

 

Chenle hated that hospital. He hated the smell sticking to his clothes, he hated the syringes carefully packed on Mark’s desk, he hated the jelly distributor that never worked, and he hated the fact Jaemin was stuck in there. Most of all, he hated the fate his friend would most likely receive, and he hated his own sense of empathy, bringing him back to the same dreadful room every two days without fail.

He couldn’t help but feel guilty. Like he had been the one supposed to fall ill in the first place. It had been weird, when the feeling first settled inside his chest, heart bumping along the tiny voice in his head telling him _It should have been you, it should have been you, and now that it isn’t, someone is going to die_. Maybe this was why he kept coming back. Maybe the illness would jump right into his open mouth and take back the place where it belonged: inside the hollow boy begging to be filled with something other than intangible emptiness.

But week after week after week, as he talked his head off for days on end, the sickness wouldn’t bulge, nesting in Jaemin’s chest and growing stronger every night. _This is your fault. Thisisyourfaultthisisyourfaultthisisyourfaultthisis_ —

“What are you going to do about Jeno?” He snapped himself out of it, drowning down the whispers with his own louder-than-necessary voice. Yes, it annoyed every single living thing around, but Chenle had to do all he could to stay sane. Drown out his own voice before it could drown him.

At least it didn’t seem to bother Jaemin. He could have lost lost partial hearing, for all they knew; they had no clue what kind of disease he had gotten, and its full effects on him. “Jeno? Did something happen to him?” Jaemin propped himself up on his elbows, the hospital bed emitting metallic noises as he moved.

“No, nothing happened. I mean like, are going to tell him you love him back, or never say anything?” Chenle asked, curious to know the answer. He felt guilty Jaemin was in this position, and so the best he could do with his nonexistent medical knowledge but great sense of altruism was to help him get rid of any unfinished business before he had to go. One of these being the Jeno question.

“Love him… back?” Jaemin frowned, tilting his head to the side, eyeing Chenle suspiciously. “Well, I do love him, he’s my best friend. I guess I’ll tell him if that’s what you want. I love you too, Chenle, you know,” he added, elbowing the younger with a wide smile on his face.

Chenle gulped, looking down at the boy’s expression with deceit on his own. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he spoke softly, watching Jaemin’s smile falter. So it had been a fake one, after all. Who knew how many times Jaemin had had to pull the same stunt in order to keep his friends at bay; who knew why, out of them all, it was Chenle who could to make him tear down the carefully built mask hiding away his true feelings. “But you know. Do you?”

Jaemin looked away, biting down on his bottom lip. “I would have preferred not to know. But he doesn’t make it easy, now, does he?” He chuckled, his eyes tearing up in betrayal. Jaemin was a happy guy, unbothered, a bundle of happiness in the form of a person; never the vulnerable, lonely, terrified kind. Which was why it hit so much harder when Jaemin did show this side once in a blue moon, the hidden aspect of himself Chenle and him seemed to have in common. Maybe Jaemin knew as much, and that was why he let himself feel for once, with him. They were a lot more similar than Chenle once thought. “Love, that’s a strong word. Are you sure it’s the right one?”

This was harder than he thought, and Chenle had his fair share of hardships. But this story of inevitable heartbreak, even though he wasn’t a part of it, he could feel himself fall into pieces with the way Jaemin’s eyes drooped at the mere mention of the L word, a word which should have only brought them happy endings. Never torment. “I’m not sure, but I’m not blind either, Jaeminnie.”

The bedridden boy wiped his tears before they could fall, sighing as he sniffed, trying to manage his emotions the only way he knew how: by pretending they were never there. “I can’t do that to him. I can’t tell him I do too; he’ll end up heartbroken. And I can’t tell him I don’t; I’d break his heart while lying to myself, and that’s not the way I want to go,” Jaemin opened up nonetheless, fingers under his eyelids, a dam restraining the tears from falling any further. Proven inefficient, as they traced down the shape of his hands down his cheeks, disappearing into his neck. “I don’t know what to do.”

Jaemin looked over to him, eyes shining for all the wrong reasons. _I don’t know either_ , Chenle wanted to say. The corner of Jaemin’s lips twitched, as if he were trying for another smile, another plastered mask on his face. It didn’t work, this time. _I don’t know anything at all_.

“I’m sad, Chenle,” Jaemin whispered, closing his eyes, a hand over his chest to regulate his breathing, heavy and fast-paced and a sore to the younger’s ears.

“I know, Jaemin,” he replied, taking a deep breath along Jaemin, reaching out for his hands. Never quite closing the gap between them, afraid he’d mess up, again. “Me too.”

  
  


} {

  
  


There was always a woman. No matter the context, no matter the scenery, no matter who he was with, there was always the same woman in the midst of the blurry lights, mixed colours and garbled noises of Chenle’s dreams.

She never appeared at the beginning of these nights. Inconspicuous scenarios took the spotlight at first, the boy travelling ages away from the comfort of his own room. A hangout with faceless friends, hundreds of sunsets flipped one after the other like the pages of a book, creaking wooden stairs threatening to crash under the weight of his tip-toed feet. The dreams were vivid, bright, clear enough he sometimes felt like he could pinch the cheeks of the youngers boys flocking to him with laughter louder than his own. But when his sight would begin to falter, as it happened every night, he knew the fun had come to its end; she was here.

Standing in front of him, her back turned, both facing the same direction. Chenle always behind, debating whether to get closer or run away. Whichever he took, he never got to act up on it, frozen on the spot, dark short hair framed around petite shoulders the only thing he was allowed to see. Until, inevitably, she would start to walk away.

All colours, all sounds were fading along with her. Chenle tried to step forward, but his feet wouldn’t bulge, cemented into place. With frustration creeping up his spine, he could feel himself mouth – or rather, scream – words he couldn’t make sense of, muffled more and more as she walked further and further away, all the yelling in the world never enough to make her look back. Never enough to let him see her face, and move on from the cycle he was stuck in, over and over again, every single night the same nightmare.

At least, someone could hear him. Not her, never her, but someone did.

“—a dream, Le, wake up, baby.” A familiar hand on his shoulder cradling him, putting an abrupt stop to his very real, piercing scream as Chenle was awoken, gasping for breath. His eyes searched the room, sweat covering his forehead, looking to put a face on the familiarity ending his tumultuous slumber. Jisung. “See, it’s okay. Just a dream. Just me.”

It was always Jisung. He didn’t even know why he kept looking for a different face, after all this time; it was always him, and it had always been. Doyoung or Jaehyun at times, more frequent when these attacks first started, but never without Jisung. He’d always be there, sitting on the edge, a hand on his shoulder waking him up gently, sporting the same fraction of a smile when Chenle would finally recognise him.

“You’re awake,” Jisung breathed out in relief, tracing circles over the boy’s shoulder with his thumb. Chenle blinked a few times, catching his breath, steadying his heartbeat. The light of the moon through the window illuminating Jisung’s face as he placed back on the bed Chenle’s plushie that had fallen down while he was asleep. “You’re okay.”

Chenle closed his eyes for a few seconds, calming himself down by focusing on the sole sensation of the thumb on his shoulder, the bony fingers digging through his skin, comfort in the tiniest of gestures. He exhaled another time, opening his eyes and sitting up on the bed to accommodate his friend’s distorted position, leaving him enough space to join him. With his free hand, Jisung offered him a glass of water and he climbed on the bed, back leaning on the bed frame, careful not to spill a drop on the covers.

Chenle took the glass, their fingers brushing. It was cold, a couple ice cubes floating on top. Three, if he had to guess – Jisung liked that number, for some reason. It didn’t matter much, though; what rang to Chenle’s heart was how, day after day, Jisung would take the time to come to him, prepare a glass of water the right temperature or damp towels when the night was hotter than usual, and free him of his own mind he longed to escape.

“Thank you.” The walls might have been paper thin, it didn’t mean Jisung had the obligation to come everytime a sound crossed over to his room. Chenle could scream until he woke himself up, and they’d all be fine, move along with their lives just the same. Yet Jisung took the time to come for him, without a clue of what caused these nightmares in the first place, still coming to his rescue. A real knight in shining armour, Renjun would say – although Chenle wasn’t sure what he meant by that.

Jisung nodded. He squeezed Chenle’s shoulder one last time before letting his hand fall back to his side, staring at his fingers. Chenle wished Jisung could have looked at him instead. “You’re safe. It’s all that matters.”

Chenle once asked Jisung why he’d always say the same words. _It’s what Ta— err, my mom used to say_ , he had replied, ever the secretive best friend who refused to open up no matter how many times Chenle had given him the opportunity. It was only fair Chenle kept to himself as well. But while neither of them said a thing, both knew of the unnamed struggles they faced, and wouldn’t stop helping in any way they could. Two blindfolded friends in the dark, trying to push each other into the light. A curiously choreographed dance if seen by an unsuspecting eye, but one that seemed to work, from the past until now.

Chenle was growing tired of dancing.

He let out a sigh, gulping down the last few drops of water and handing back the empty glass to its original owner. He laid back down facing the ceiling, his arms outside the covers to keep his body cool. Not because he was hoping Jisung would hold his hand or whatever. Still, Jisung took the bait, fingers locking between Chenle’s. Bigger and engulfing his own completely, but warm, soothing, more than welcome.

Tucking his face deeper into his pillow, Chenle let out a giddy smile, mentally slapping himself for it.

  
  


Most of the time, when Chenle woke up again at a more appropriate hour of the morning, Jisung would already be gone, off to either his own place or walking around the city. Today was no exception, Chenle opening his eyes to a teddy bear tucked into bed rather than his best friend.

He couldn’t be angry at Jisung; the boy didn’t sleep, ever, and wasting his time holding Chenle’s hand while the boy slept until the Sun rose up again would only be a waste of his productivity, without mentioning how boring these lost hours in the dark of someone else’s room would be. It was a little weird how he had never seen Jisung sleep at all, but it wasn’t inconceivable, considering the city they all lived in.

Could he be blamed, though, when, after what seemed like the billionth time waking up alone, he held growing disappointment in his heart? Chenle knew he shouldn’t have felt that way, knew it was wrong for the both of them. Jisung had his own life, and they had to remain independent from each other if they wanted to live fulfilling lives. But… could he control these feelings, when they brewed up so frequently, so harshly they would get caught up in his throat and leave him with the same uninvited voices telling him he wasn’t worth the time?

Today was no exception, Chenle told himself, sitting on the stairs leading up to the apartment block, waiting. For what, exactly, he was deliberating. Jisung? Or answers to the never ending questions he was tired of watching unresolved, piling up in the corner of his mind, growing higher than a skyscraper?

Today may not have been given the status of exception yet, but Chenle wasn’t planning on letting the day unfold like every other. Enough of those already, waking up from nightmares with the emotional equivalent of a stranger beside him. No, today, he was doing something he never thought he’d have the guts – or the necessity – to do: confront Jisung.

Said boy was now rounding the corner, coming into Chenle’s field of view. His expression twisted into surprise, a shy wave accompanied by a small forced smile only Jisung could pull off as amicable. “Hey, dude,” Jisung greeted, sitting by his side, the right amount of space between the two. “What are you doing here?”

Chenle squinted his eyes at the boy. “What are _you_ doing here?” He retorted, raising an eyebrow, only to find himself cringing at his own attempt to appear angry. _He’s here because you’re here, idiot_ , the voice said, unfortunately right. Chenle grinned, scratching the back off his neck. “Sorry. Not what I wanted to say.”

Jisung chuckled, tilting his head. Something he did when he was confused, and set on figuring out. Chenle seemed to know his friend better than his own self, at times. Well, when Jisung wasn’t completely closed off. “What did you want to say, then?” Jisung asked, a slight frown taking place on his forehead. Attentive, rather than intrigued. Genuine.

“I…” Now that the opportunity was in his hands, he didn’t know where to start. Chenle had so many things he wanted to say, wanted Jisung to say. A simple  question wouldn’t be enough to uncover half of what he wanted to know; but he had to settle for one now, if he ever wanted to reach the end of it. “Could you answer truthfully, please?”

Jisung nodded, looking up to the sky. The brightest blue they had seen in a while. “Yeah, of course. Well, I guess that depends…” Jisung trailed off, biting the inside of his cheek, throwing a quick glance towards his friend. The look on Chenle’s face seemed to be enough to make him reconsider, frantically opening his mouth to change his answer. “Yes, I can. I will.”

 _You better_ , Chenle almost threatened, had his mind not been boiling down trying to find the right words. He too looked up to the sky. The past few days had been unusually filled with gray, making the vibrant colour look almost foreign over their heads. “Are you hiding things from me, Jisung?”

Chenle didn’t need to ask, for he already knew the answer. Giving Chenle the wrong one meant Jisung taking his lies further down the road, and the boy wasn’t sure he could wait for him to come back much longer. He wasn’t asking about those things kept hidden; he was asking if Jisung thought their friendship meant enough to trust him.

“Yes,” Jisung replied. Chenle tore his eyes off the sky, looking at his friend only to find him staring back. “Are _you_ hiding things from me?”

He should have seen this one coming. There were both at fault, both keeping things from the other, prompting the other to never say anything more. If Chenle was this tired of Jisung’s antics, he could only begin to imagine how frustrated Jisung was, too. “I suppose I am. Yeah.”

Chenle sighed. He couldn’t demand answers without admitting to his own. Jisung had showed time and time again he wouldn’t take the first step, even when handed on a silver platter; if Chenle wanted answers, he’d have to compromise with his own. “I— I know I’m young, and people think I’m not old enough to understand things like that,” Chenle explained himself, fiddling with his fingers. “I’m childish and loud and everything of a mindless teenager, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t understand, if you were to tell me whatever it is you’re not saying.”

Jisung had never looked so focused on anything in the time they had spent together. It gave Chenle shivers as he continued. “We’re the same age, but somedays it feels like you’re older. Taeil or Johnny older. People treat you like you’re older. I guess you’re fine with it, and it suits you, in a way. But whatever people say or do, we’re still the same age. If you can handle these things… why don’t you think I can, too?”

There was a pained expression on Jisung’s face, reflecting Chenle’s own. He too had seen this one coming, yet it hurt to hear just as bad. “I know you can, Lele. I’m just… not proud of the lengths I’ve been to, to keep these things out of your sight. Lying to you,” Jisung admitted, fiddling with his fingers on his lap. Chenle couldn’t even be mad; not only had he known Jisung was lying to him since forever – his friend was a terrible liar –, he was finally speaking up, the one thing Chenle had wanted for so long. “And— and I thought it would burden you. You already have these things you don’t feel you can tell me, I wouldn’t want to put anything on top of that. I’ve done enough harm as of now.”

Of course Jisung would say that. Of course he would think of Chenle’s wellbeing before his own; wasn’t taking care of him in the dead of night enough proof already? “I already feel like a burden. I don’t know how it could get much worse than that,” Chenle confessed, avoiding Jisung’s gaze. “Even in dreams I feel heavy. Like I’m not supposed to be there, not supposed to see.”

It was time he told him. This was an opportunity, the same as those he had offered Jisung; it would be hypocrite of him not to take it. Although dropping his emotional baggage on Jisung wouldn’t help with the ‘ _feeling like a burden_ ’ part, it might balance out with the peace of mind he could gain from it. And, come to think of it, Jisung would probably like to know what was making his friend scream in terror every night. Maybe.

Chenle took a deep breath. _Here goes nothing_. “I think they’re memories. I thought Neo took them, but some must have slipped through the cracks,” he started, recalling some of his favourites. The little girl at the swings laughing. The cake with ten birthday candles. A dog wagging its tail on the sidewalk. “I can’t see myself, but I know I’m in them. There are other people, too. And I’m happy. Until… until I see someone who takes it away. The only person I can’t see.”

The city was silent. As if it, too, was listening to his words, hanging from his lips. “I think she might be my mom. I think something terrible happened to her,” Chenle presumed, turning his head to face Jisung again. The boy hadn’t slipped in a word yet; Chenle wasn’t sure if this were a good sign. “How come you and Renjun remember your mother, and I can’t?” He wondered out loud, more to himself than for his friend. Jisung couldn’t have all the answers; they were just two boys, even after all they had been through.

_And why can’t I save her?_

Jisung gave him a small nod, permission to continue. Chenle obliged. “They always start off okay. I can feel the smile on my face. Then it turns to shit, everytime, and I can’t stop it. But even when I wake up crying, I still want to fall back asleep, to go back, because I felt this glimpse of happiness, and I miss it,” he disclosed, lips pursed, looking away. He hadn’t meant to divulge as much, but he couldn’t rewind now, could he? “It’s wrong, right? So I tell myself, if it’s terrible in dreams, imagine how it would be in the real. ‘ _Real life must be a nightmare, Chenle, why would you ever want it?_ ’ But… even after I’ve said these things… is it weird I still want to go back?”

He didn’t want to look at Jisung. He had said so much already, the rest lining up in his throat, waiting for the tiniest crack to spill out of. If he looked at Jisung now, he might break. “And then comes the question: do you deserve to go back? What if you’ve changed, and it’s nothing like the dreams? What if you haven’t, and it’s exactly the same? Which is worse?” Chenle let out, his voice giving out a little more with every word crossing his lips. _Don’t you dare cry now, don’t you dare_. “I don’t know what my home is. I’m scared of it sometimes. I barely know who I am. If I’m the happy guy from the dreams, or if I’ve become the sad one from Neo. I don’t know. And every night, I go to sleep without answers, and wake up with more questions I don’t want answered.”

The city was silent, listening to his pleas, not because it wanted to know; because it was meant to absorb every single drop of Chenle’s pain, only to pour it back into nightmares. “It hurts to dream, Jisung.”

Chenle refused to look at him. He had never been this up-close and personal with Jisung, not even with himself. It had taken him all the courage he could muster to rassemble his most obscure thoughts and spill them out into the light, and now he wanted a break. A little time-out, pack himself back up from the ground, get ready for what Jisung had to say. He couldn’t bear face him now. Until he heard him chuckle to his side.

Oh no, that wouldn’t stand. Chenle had poured his whole heart out, all his insecurities accumulated for too long, to be received like this? With mockery, his friend laughing – literally! – at his pain? Unbelievable. So this was how Renjun felt seeing Jaehyun. The boy had been onto something, after all, going into full-on fistfight mode any chance he got. Chenle might just give it a try now. If he didn’t opt for rage, sadness would consume him – and so he balled his hands into fists. “Stop it,” he frowned, staring at Jisung’s smile. “It’s not funny, you jerk—”

His sentence was cut short by the crushing hug he was engulfed in without warning, his breath taken away as he sorted out his confused state. Jisung was hugging him? Jisung wasn’t much of a hugger, yet here he was, holding on to Chenle tighter than ever. Right after mocking him, though? Suspicious. “Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” Chenle spat, trying to wiggle his way out, Jisung only pressing their bodies closer.

“I’m smiling because we’re the same, Lele,” Jisung said into his neck, leaving Chenle to wonder if he had heard wrong. “Because we’ve been chosen to remember.”

This did nothing to appease Chenle’s anger, attempting once again to escape his friend’s tight grasp with no avail. “Is that supposed to mean something?” He gritted, putting his hands over Jisung’s shoulder. One more word he would say that didn’t clear up his fault, Chenle would push him down the stairs. He wasn’t playing around. He may not have been able to save his mother, but he’d save himself from the fake people in his life in the blink of an eye.

“It does to me,” Jisung whispered, soft spoken, no harm meant in the quiet murmurs vibrating against Chenle’s skin. Had Chenle misread the situation, somehow? What would there be to misread, anyway? He must have missed an important piece of information. With Jisung never telling him anything, it probably rang true. “Did you know that I remember you?”

Either he was missing part of the story, or Jisung was an absolute dumbass, cream of the crop in buffoonery. “What— I hope you do. I’m literally right here,” Chenle grunted, finally pushing him off. Jisung kept his balance, still smiling like a fool, and for some reason, his eyes sparkled. “Did you not listen to me at all?”

It hit him then; Jisung’s eyes weren’t sparkling, but veiled with water. “Sorry for that,” Jisung bit down his smile, blinking away his apparent feelings. Chenle had never seen him expose such vulnerability before, never in front of him. “I’m just… happy someone understands. I’ve been waiting for that longer than I thought.” he chuckled again, shaking his head. Great, now Chenle regretted not giving into that hug, that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Oh, had he known…

“I used to have dreams like yours, before you arrived.” Jisung revealed, taking Chenle by surprise. He hadn’t expected this of all things, but come to think of it, it did clear some things up. How he would never hesitate to show up. How he always had the right words to calm Chenle down; because he too had heard them more than enough. “Memories I would wake up from crying every night. Memories I wanted to go back to, like you, even when they hurt. I figured if I wanted them to stop, I had to never go to sleep again.”

How cruel of the universe; Jisung, the one who held his hands through those dark times, had had the answer to his misery all this time. All Chenle had had to ask was the right question. “Had you told me they were memories, I would have helped you sooner. I’m sorry for taking so long to notice. The screaming part must have confused me, since it wasn’t how my experience went,” Jisung apologised, properly sitting down again, shuffling closer to Chenle. “Anyway, I stopped going to sleep, and having memories. Until I first saw you here.”

Half-dreading, half-excited, Chenle motionned for his friend to keep going. “You were with Johnny, he was showing you around. I saw you two in the street from my window, and it was like time stopped as it struck me: I had seen you before. When all I had were memories of Neo, you came around, proving I wasn’t crazy to think of a past before this city.” His hands reached out towards Chenle, but before they could close the gap, Jisung brought them back to his own lap. “And so I ran down the stairs to meet you. Why do you think I suggested you take the apartment next to mine, when I didn’t even know your name?” Jisung smiled. His eyes had returned to their original happy state, cute little crinkles around the edges.

Chenle’s mouth contorted into an awkward grin, raising an eyebrow. “Because you were feeling nice?”

Jisung sighed. “Because I hoped you would remember, too,” he offered another shy smile, the one where his eyes would get all tiny and Chenle wanted nothing more than pinch his cheeks. “But not like… _this_ ,” Jisung frowned, shaking his hands around, his smile falling. “Never like this.”

It seemed to pain Jisung to think of what Chenle had been going through in silence, while he could have been helping for so long. Chenle didn’t want that pain to stay on his traits for a second longer. “What was the memory about? I don’t think I’ve had that one yet,” he asked, hoping to change the subject and distract the boy from these undesirable thoughts.

Jisung looked, up, deep in thought. _Smart move for once, Chenle_. “It’s a little fuzzy, but you were young. Well, we both were. You were on a stage, in a tiny suit, and I watched you from the audience,” he recalled, his eyes on Chenle. This time, they shone for all the right reasons. “It was dark all around, except for you; all the lights were on you. You were singing. I thought you had a pretty voice.”

Chenle couldn’t help the incredulous frown covering his face. “You must be joking,” he said, a smile curling up his lips nonetheless. “I— Me? Singing?” None of the memories he had been showed depicted this hidden passion of his, but Jisung wouldn’t be lying about something like this. Something that sparked an unusual warmth in Chenle’s chest, as if something long forgotten had finally joined its rightful place.

“Yeah. You were the best at it. To me at least.” Once again, Jisung’s hand reached out towards him. Chenle wasted no time in lacing their fingers together, biting down his lip to keep that awful giddy smile he always had around Jisung from showing up. “And, listen, I wondered about that too,” Jisung’s tone deepened, his hand giving Chenle’s a light squeeze. “If I’m the same boy from my memories. If I’m a completely different person. Which one of them is real.”

Some days, Chenle believed Jisung to be a thousand years old. He spoke weird like an adult, cleaned his apartment – the complete opposite to Chenle’s montruous teenage dumpster of a room –, interacted with the older citizens, and liked to watch the trees swaying in the wind by the edge of the forest. But Chenle would be damned if he wasn’t the slightest bit grateful for all the life advice Jisung would give, none of which had ever failed him.

“But I can’t move on, if I don’t let go of it,” Jisung confided, shaking his head. Oh, how Chenle wished to erase his past worries. “I have to let it go, even if it means leaving one of those selves to disappear. If I want to be the Jisung I could be, if I want to keep growing in peace, I have to cut off that anchor over time. If I don’t, it takes me by the throat and pollutes my mind with doubt for days. But it goes away again, once I remember I have people who like me for me.”

Chenle wished he had known of his friend’s struggles earlier, even if all he could do was lend a shoulder. Anything but face this alone. Yesterday’s Chenle had no idea how lucky he had been, to have Jisung by his side for so long. To have Jisung.

“It doesn’t sound easy to do,” Chenle let out, his fingers tapping on the back of Jisung’s hand. Chenle didn’t want to disappear, even only part of him. He had already lost all he had been before, the singing child, the happy birthday boy; he wasn’t ready to go through it again, erase deleted memories he would cherish every time they’d come back. To leave the tempting past behind, once and for all. Then again, these memories of what he couldn’t have were his disease, and Jisung had handed him the cure.

“It isn’t, but this time, you have me,” Jisung reminded the boy, letting go of their joined hands to pat Chenle’s back instead. “And I’ll help you. And I’ll tell you all you want to know. And we’ll both grow from it, together.”

And Chenle would forever be grateful for it, but right now, he couldn’t waste this opportunity to clown Jisung. Patting his back and giving him more advice? Had the three billion years old Jisung been replaced by the grandpa across the street? “See, this is what I mean when I say you’re like an old person. You talk weird. ‘ _I’ll tell ya all ya wanna know, son, I swear on our fourteen goats_ ’,” Chenle mocked, his voice sounding more of an incoherent grumble than anything.

“But like… cool weird, right?” Jisung pouted, frowning. _Cute weird, maybe_.

“Old weird. Like a knight,” Chenle laughed, pulling out an invisible sword from his waist, the way Renjun had taught him. And just like that, they were okay again. Back to normal, after turning their entire world upside down for the umpteenth time. Just another day in Neo.

Jisung tilted his head, showing concern. “You know there are older things than the Middle Ages, right? It’s important to me that you know.”

The end of his sentence faded away as Chenle shifted his focus towards a figure approaching them, running in direction of the stairs they were sitting in. He squinted his eyes to get a hold of the newcomer taking a break midway, leaning his weight on his knees before running again. “Hey, is that… Jungwoo?”

Jisung turned around, his eyes widening at the sight. “Uh oh. This can’t mean well.”

Before Chenle could ask why his friend would say such a troubling statement about the least intimidating person in Neo, Jungwoo had already reached the pair, panting and clutching his chest. He must have given it his all, to be so out of breath Chenle feared he would pass out on the stairs. He thankfully reached a healthier pace, closing his eyes and breathing evenly again.

“Hey, kiddos,” Jungwoo spoke up, looking down at the two boys. Was his vision getting worse, or was that a hint of fear he could see in Jungwoo’s eyes? “We have a bit of a situation.”

Chenle’s brows furrowed, and Jisung threw him a confused glance before going back to the older. “What… kind of situation, Jungwoo?” Jisung asked, forever the responsible one of the two; meanwhile, Chenle was making a mental inventory of what he would need to pack in case of an apocalypse – nothing good had ever been described as ‘ _a situation_ ’; better get ready for the worst.

“I can’t tell, actually. That’s what concerns me,” Jungwoo elaborated, answering none of the questions popping up at rapid speed in Chenle’s mind. “I was at the cabin, and then I heard this high-pitched ringing. I couldn’t tell if it was in my head or in my ears, but either way, it felt like my head would split open. And just when I couldn’t bear it anymore… Nothing. Nothing, from anyone.”

Chenle didn’t know the complete mechanics of Jungwoo’s abilities, but nothing in Neo was meant to fall out of place. Everytime it did, the citizens had been in for a treat, far from a positive one. “I was scared for a good minute, if I’m honest. Now that I can see that two you haven’t vanished from existence, I’m a little relieved, but I don’t feel calm. Something else must have happened. Something so great even I can’t process it.”

If Chenle had learned anything from Hansol’s departure or Jaemin’s illness and their aftermath, it was to take action as fast as they could. “We better go help out then, get to City Center,” he suggested, jumping to his feet. He looked down at his friend, searching for approval, but Jisung seemed frozen in place. “If someone got hurt, it could hurt all of us.”

He didn’t know where this newfound confidence had erupted from, but he was glad it did; there was no way he would let another series of unfortunate events unfold while watching from the sidelines. Jungwoo nodded at his words, letting out a short sigh of relief. “I’ll go ahead now. If something happened to Yukhei…”

“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s a tough guy,” Jisung chimed in, getting up as well. His frozen expression had been replaced by a determined one, looking straight at Jungwoo with a leader-like aura encircling him. Chenle was in awe. “Go. We’ll be close behind.”

Jungwoo nodded, entranced by Jisung, and ran off towards the empty streets leading to the middle of the city, where questions and answers alike seemed to be meddling on this particular sunny day. Although the days in Neo never knew how to remain ordinary, this one felt different.

“I don’t like this,” Jisung muttered, a painful reminder of all the secrets he held and hadn’t had the time to tell Chenle about. Whatever Jisung knew that he didn’t, he crossed his fingers, hoping for the best. This was Neo. Different days happened all the time. Right?

Jisung sighed, covering his worries with a tight-lipped smile. “Well, looks like our day has just started,” he commented, looking out to the blue sky. Outrageously clear, for a day that might hold the darkest of hours in its grasp. “At least we’re safe. I told you you’d be,” Jisung hinted, referring to the late night/early morning comfort words he would shower Chenle with when the nightmares got the best of him.

Chenle must have done something great in his past lives to deserve Jisung. And Jisung must have thought the same of him, for making his heart flutter like that. “I sure mean a lot to you, don’t I?” Chenle teased, bumping their shoulders together. He had meant it as a joke; he hadn’t expected Jisung to stare fondly at him with the same giddy smile Chenle wore too often, and was so embarrassed of.

“More than you know,” Jisung said, holding out his hand for Chenle. The boy didn’t have to ask twice, Chenle accepting the offer, the pair walking hand in hand towards City Center – or their possible demise.

“Ugh, don’t be sappy. You’re like Jeno,” Chenle called out, earning a playful shove from his best friend. Jisung was too cute for his own good. “Race you to City Center?”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (anyone else get that parks and rec reference?? hehe)
> 
> please let me know if anything is confusing. everything is just going to pile up at this point and i dont want to lose any of u, okay?
> 
> thank you again for reading and leaving feedback!! im super pumped for that last part i dont think you'll be able to guess whats coming!!


	16. TEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ten hates being wrong, but being right hurts so much more.

**xvi**. TEN

 

The night used to mean calm, for Ten. A time where all the hecticness of the world and its occupants could finally come down, take a breather, rassemble its energies for the following day. A break from the light and talk and confusion reigning when the Sun shone down on them; a save point for whatever could happen next.

The night used to mean sleep. It used to mean comfort, intimacy. It used to mean Johnny’s arms shielding him from the world outside, when his mind could go at peace. He wasn’t so sure what the night meant, anymore. Except for darkness, lurking in the corners of their shared nest, one heartbeat alone in this infinite space.

Johnny was gone again. It hadn’t used to be so frequent; once in a while, the day after Rain Week had just passed, he would go in the city at night. Fine with Ten, although he did wonder why, as long as he came back. Now that the weather had decided to screw with Neo for no apparent reason, Johnny was gone more and more, getting up from the warmth of their bed almost every night. Ten pretended not to notice as the sheets grew colder around him. He always noticed.

He got out of bed as well, finding no use in falling back asleep – he most likely wouldn’t, for he had trouble sleeping alone nowadays. He kept the lights closed as he walked around the apartment, his bare feet on the freezing ground a stark reminder of the hole left by Johnny’s absence. The man had a warm aura. Without him, the world went cold.

His feet led him to his little atelier, a wide closet renovated into Ten’s own art study. He pulled on the string by the door, opening the lights, the orange glow of the bulb bringing the drawings on the wall to life. Ten had complained so much about changing the lightbulb into a neutral-toned one, but in the dead of night, breathing out clouds of ice, he was glad for the semblance of a heat in this tiny space. Or maybe it was the faint smell of smoke from a distance reminding him of a fireplace.

He took place on his stool, observing his work. A lot of them were animals the younger boys had wanted to learn about after Renjun had started teaching them, and an even bigger portion of these were butterflies, more as a preventive measure than artistic devotion. There were some paintings of Neo’s landscapes scattered across the room, the frames too heavy to be hung up, but it didn’t bother him the slightest; it left more space of his favourite drawings.

One of them was the fountain of Neo, this time functioning, decorated with lily pads and bloomings flowers all around. It looked nothing like the real deal, but Ten had always seen it differently, and had ought to make it justice. Another was a narrow street he had spent hours in the Sun to reproduce, and the perspective had been a real pain in the ass, but it was now one of his proudest achievements.

There was his best friend, Jungwoo. He was smiling wide with his buck teeth, his head rested in his hands, eyes turned into crescents. He was happy. So happy it hurt to see.

“He— he said I— he— he said I never loved him. That I was tricking him all this time,” Ten recalled Jungwoo’s words, the day after he had woken up from his nightmarish headache, immediately bursting into tears. Ten had never seen anyone so wrecked, and he too shed a tear at his friend’s state. “That— that Johnny had asked me to keep him in check, and I obliged. I never used my powers on him! I love him, how could I? How can he say that, Ten?”

So, so fucking happy, so happy Ten couldn’t bear to look at it one more second. If only real life could look the same as on paper.

And, right at eye-level, on a piece of parchment drawn in pastels of all colours, Johnny Seo. Laughing, crinkles around his eyes, his hair styled up, lips as kissable as ever. His whole world, the perfect drawing, the love of his life. He wasn’t so sure anymore.

After Jungwoo, he couldn’t be sure of anything. Yukhei did have strong paranoia, but to focus his anger on Johnny when he could have picked any of the seventeen others, there had to be some layer of truth to it, somewhere. Yukhei was observant, and he wasn’t an idiot; Jungwoo had fallen for him for a reason, after all. Yukhei might have been overreacting, but even if he were… why would he end a relationship over it?

And then there was Mark. _You made me watch him die_ , the boy had spat with all his might, fury in his voice, dripping in regret. They all knew Mark’s treatment had never been fair, no one stepping up to the plate anyway, but to hear it was Johnny’s idea in the first place? It didn’t even begin to cover Mark’s accusation about the hospital, if they even were accusations in the first place. What if they were truth? What exactly had happened behind closed doors?

Fuck, he had to stop. He couldn’t keep thinking like that; didn’t he know Johnny? Didn’t he know the man he loved wouldn’t be capable of such cruel acts? He did. He had to trust him, trust his warmth, trust his word. No what-ifs.

But the more he stared at the drawing, Johnny’s laugh mocking him, the more they multiplicated, one after the other. _What if, Ten, what if! Do you really know? Can you tell where he is, right now? You can’t, can you? What else can’t you tell?_ And so he had to get out.

The air was cold against his skin, the wind sneaking into the holes of his woolen jumper. He should have thought to bring a coat, but frankly, he didn’t care much. If he caught a cold, it could get Johnny to stay the night and take care of him, for once. Unlikely situation, considering the lack of viruses inside Neo. A man could dream.

He didn’t have a particular destination in mind, but as he kicked down the rocks on the pavement, he could recognise the buildings nearing City Center. He wasn’t up to seeing that fountain again, reminisce of the day he had met Johnny, how bleak it looked in reality. Fuck, he hoped it wouldn’t turn out to be a demolishing metaphor for their relationship. The thought alone gave Ten shivers. It might have been the wind, though.

He got to City Center nonetheless, fountain waterless as ever. The buildings alongside looked just as dead, engulfed by darkness, except for one, standing above them all: City Hall, the mayor’s – well, Taeyong’s – place. The higher levels were shining over the city; Taeyong must have been awake. The guy had said he’d love if Ten could teach him dance sometime, and anytime was a good time for a dance lesson. Why not pop by now?

Ten had rarely ever been inside City Hall. He wasn’t a member of the Council, so he hadn’t felt the need to visit. He had been offered a spot after his arrival, but had declined, claiming politics weren’t his strong suit. Johnny could insist City Council was far from political all he wanted, Ten still couldn’t find it in himself to care for it – he’d rather listen to Jungwoo gush on and on about Yukhei for hours. But now that he was inside, with no idea how to get upstairs, he wished he could have come at least once during daytime.

Fumbling in the dark, Ten stepped forward, hands held out in case a surprise table in the middle of the hallway decided to make an appearance. He figured the right stairway wouldn’t be too close to the entrance, separating the public and private lives of those who worked and lived here, and so he advanced as far as he could, leaning closer to the walls. He tried out his luck by opening a few doors he came across while bumping into door knobs, the random room thankfully equipped with light switches, but as he discovered soon enough, most of them were pretty much empty.

He must have been close to the end of the hallway now; this place couldn’t go on forever. Unless Neo was pulling another prank on him. He grabbed yet another doorknob, but just as he was about to give up and walk away, he pulled on it, this one way heavier than any of the others he had opened. Ten sneezed, a cloud of dust generated by the movement tickling his nose; how long had it been since anyone had opened this door? Peeking his head in, he fumbled for the switch, and when the light finally opened, he was blessed to see a staircase – until he realised it was leading downstairs.

At this point, all Ten needed was a win. _Fuck it_ , he thought as he stepped forward, his initial plan long forgotten.

For a house this well kept, these stairs sure creaked an awful lot. He went down, a sigh of relief escaping his lips when he reached the ground, about fifty percent convinced he wouldn’t be able to climb back up without the stairs breaking down under his weight. A problem for future Ten, he decided as he turned around to inspect the room he had landed in.

The wide space was completely dark, apart from the the staircase and a faint, unnatural glow across the room. Ten left the security provided by the light and stepped into the direction of the blue-ish light, intrigued, but filled with apprehension. It seemed to come from an object, a big, oddly shaped one Ten couldn’t recognise from afar. His surroundings were getting darker with every step he took. Did Taeyong know about this room? About this mysterious object lurking under his house? With the state of the place, it was safe to assume he didn’t. So who could have put this clunky thing here? Why, and how long ago, exactly?

Getting closer, Ten could only frown harder. This new light was harsh, his eyes growing used to the intensity before returning to squinting as he approached the object more and more. From this distance, it seemed to be more of a pile than one particular object, a small tower of flashing lights. And as he got closer, he could tell he had been right.

Tens of small screens were lined up in a peculiar arrangement, some wider, others tinier, stacked on top of each other with no apparent sequence or organisation. The console board consisted of a row of piano keys that had gotten brown from old age. The monitors all had different colours, a bit like his drawing back at home, but the arrangement messier and confusing. But what caught his attention the most was the biggest screen, right in the middle, with its blinking colours and multiples shapes. It didn’t take long for Ten to recognise the odd pattern as Neo City.

It was a map. That circle, the fountain in City Center, right in front of City Hall. Those squares, the buildings, and rectangles, suburban houses. And if he were right to assume, these little dots – Ten counted seventeen – could only mean one thing: the citizens.

Ten’s finger trailed on the screen, settling on top of a tiny blue circle nearing the fountain. “He said I was blue,” he muttered to himself, reminded of a conversation he had had with Johnny, not too long after he had arrived. _If I was a colour, which would I be?_ Ten had asked innocently, batting his eyelashes at the infatuated man. It hadn’t taken Johnny long to settle on one: “Baby blue.”

At the other end of the same square was a pitch black dot: Lee Taeyong, in the same building as Ten were. By the edge of the line of triangles, a singular white one: Jungwoo, left by the forest. These two different toned greens along with the burning red and pastel purple from the same block must have been the two youngest along with Jaehyun and Doyoung. A pink dot in the suburbs blinking faster than the others, a burgundy walking around their own house in the middle of the night, a turquoise and a yellow melting into each other, so close they were almost one. The citizens were all there, in their multicolour glory. All except one.

Ten had his own idea of who it could be.

What could it all mean, though? They had known they were being somewhat watched with Johnny’s ability, but the thought had been brushed off as some Neo-ism, a gimmick, rather than the terrifying conclusion they were being tracked. The computer screen in front of him wasn’t an ability, wasn’t a strange quirk they could get used to and forget. It was tangible proof of something sinister, something all of Neo’s weirdness combined couldn’t explain. Something Ten wasn’t sure he wanted to uncover.

He looked around the machine, avoiding the other screens; the map was already terrifying, he didn’t need any more of this nightmare material. There were plenty of wires and cables scattered on the ground, but as Ten crouched down, he noticed one of them going further than the stack they all seemed constricted to. He grabbed the cable, following its trail in the growing darkness, until he reached a wall, where the cable was plugged into a tiny monitor. Pushing himself against the wall and channelling all his strength, Ten pulled on the cable as hard as he could.

Only to receive a shock so great the cable slipped out of his hands in a scream and he fell to the ground, drained of all energy, his heart beating in his burnt hands.

Ten hated this fucking place.

  
  


The Sun had risen, yet Johnny hadn’t returned from his nightly escapade. Yesterday’s Ten might have worried, staring at the apartment door waiting for it to open, but today’s Ten was plain angry, opening the door himself and stepping into the city the same way he had done hours earlier, different intentions in mind.

The sky was so fucking clear, a pale blue bearing an unfortunate resemblance to Ten’s. How ironic, he thought, keeping his eyes on the road instead of up ahead. Where was he even going? Probably the cabin where they had stashed Jungwoo away like a dog foaming at the mouth. Whose idea was it again to seclude him from the rest of Neo? Oh, yeah. Johnny’s. Ten wanted to cry.

Not looking where he was going, he didn’t notice a citizen coming straight at him, bumping right into his chest. As he raised his head up to apologise, strong hands gripped him by the shoulders, making sure he wouldn’t lose balance. Ten should have figured the stranger would turn out to be Johnny; life wouldn’t stop mocking him this morning.

Johnny flashed him a bright smile, brushing Ten’s hair behind his ear. His touch felt foreign on Ten’s skin. “Distracted much, Tennie? Why aren’t you home?” Johnny asked, clueless of the night of revelations Ten had barely gotten out alive of. Clueless about his walk back home from City Hall, completely exhausted from the shock, both mental and electric, close to crawling on the fucking streets. Asking why Ten wasn’t home? Hypocrisy at its finest.

“Why weren’t you?” Ten retorted, pushing Johnny’s hands off him.

Johnny was a liar. The computer had proven he couldn’t be trusted; either it meant Johnny had been pretending to have abilities, relying on this strange and freaky computer system instead, or, he did have that very same map floating in his head, which granted him a dangerous connection with the system keeping its citizens locked in.

Ten hadn’t been in Neo when the previous guy had left, but he did know the city had punished those who remained for it. The city didn’t want anyone to follow in his footsteps; if they did, they’d be condemning the ones they loved. And if Johnny was in kahoots with this augmented reality prison system, he couldn’t be trusted with a single word.

No matter how much Ten loved him. “I was on a walk,” Johnny recycled his same old excuse, oblivious to Ten’s feelings, thinking he was slick. There he was, proving Ten’s point. Lying to him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was gone for so long, and then the Sun was already up—”

“Sorry’s not going to cut it this time,” Ten crossed his arms over his chest, turning around and walking away. He didn’t want to hear what the man had to say for his defence; they’d be lies, they had been nothing but lies for who knew how long anyway. Right now, what he needed was a friend. Or literally any person he could come across that wasn’t Johnny Seo, of all people.

But things couldn’t ever be easy, could they? Not here in Neo. “Ten. Hey, Ten!” Johnny ran up to him, placing a hand on his arm to stop him from going any further, concern weaved in his traits. Concerned. Finally – but also, too late. “Ten, baby, what’s going on?”

Ten closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see how Johnny would react to his next words. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he breathed through gritted teeth, only opening his eyes when he felt Johnny’s hand fall from his arm. He should have left them closed, for he didn’t need the pained frown on Johnny’s face to stray him from his anger. Worst of all, Johnny knew exactly what he was doing, replicating the sad puppy face. He knew all of Ten’s weaknesses, after all.

“Ten,” Johnny called, his tone serious, the one he used when he had to endorse his responsible side. “Talk to me. Please.”

Johnny wouldn’t be able to say he didn’t ask for it, after requesting it so urgently. And Ten always delivered. “Fine, I’ll talk. Did you, or did you not, plant the idea into my head to match up Jungwoo with Yukhei?” He challenged, an eyebrow raised. _You wanted me to talk, I won’t hold anything back_. “Kill your Yukhei problem under the pretense to care for my friend’s health, when really you were only furthering your own selfish cause?”

Johnny had never held a special place in his heart for the lanky boy and his questionable mannerisms, but it was clear the man didn’t want him to leave. If it had been the case, Johnny would have left him in the Gray area to stumble some more instead of picking him right back up, would have left him in the Gray area in hope the boy would go away on his own. But it hadn’t happened that way. Johnny hadn’t wanted Yukhei gone, kind of like Neo. Kind of like they had the same goal, and Ten had been right to think so in the first place. Ten had never hated being right, before today.

Johnny’s frown contorted into a puzzled one, mouth agape, searching for his words – or for another lie to feed Ten with. “Wh— Where is this coming from, Ten?” He said, seeming genuinely out of the loop. Had Ten followed his heart, he might have stopped this madness before he could cause damage to their relationship, but alas, he had put his heart on mute the second Johnny had appeared in the alleyway.

If Ten listened to his heart, he’d let Johnny get away with anything. Ten was lucky his head knew better. “Don’t you remember? One day, you told me Jungwoo and Yukhei would look good together,” Ten shrugged, imitating that day’s Johnny. “An off handed comment you never mentioned again, like you knew I’d catch on. Like you knew I’d try everything to make my friend happy, and only needed one little spark,” he recalled, cringing at himself for falling into the trap. “It wasn’t long after he had tried running off for the first time. I should have connected the dots then.”

Johnny stepped closer. Ten responded by taking a step back. “Ten, I—”

“So, did you, or did you not?” Ten growled, his eyes throwing daggers at the man. Johnny could repeat his name all he wanted, voice soft and pleading, Ten wouldn’t bulge. “You better not fucking lie to me this time, Johnny. I’m tired of that shit,” he warned.

Johnny didn’t say anything, and the longer the seconds filled the air with emptiness, the quicker Ten was losing faith. “I… I’m sorry, Ten, I don’t remember saying that,” Johnny shook his head, visible ache in his eyes. If only he could tell if it were sincere. Ten’s disgruntled face fell. “I really don’t, but I— I wouldn’t manipulate you, Ten. I’m being honest. Trust me,” he assured, reaching out for Ten, trying to grab his hands.

Don’t remember. Don’t _remember_? Wow. In the history of Johnny’s excuses, this one must have been the lowest of all. Forgetting; how convenient. How cowardly. “I can’t, Johnny. Not anymore,” Ten muttered, shaking his head and hiding his hands behind his back. Johnny didn’t trust Ten enough to tell him the truth about his fucking whereabouts. Why should Ten trust him with anything, then? “You’ve done enough.”

Johnny must have sensed the fight leaving Ten’s eyes, taking another step forward in a desperate attempt to let him hear what he had to say. “I swear on my life, Ten, I could never lie to you—”

“Then what’s with Mark and Jaemin, huh?” Ten exclaimed, raising his voice at the older man. Johnny froze, looking away from Ten, anywhere but Ten. The shifty eyes of a guilty man. “Yeah, I heard that, too,” he rubbed it in, this time the one stepping closer, pointing an accusatory finger at Johnny’s chest. “You didn’t just lie to me, you lied to everyone.”

The latter sighed, pressing his fingers to his temples. Maybe he’d crack; maybe that way, he’d finally tell the truth, even if it hurt. Was it wrong of him to wish Johnny would scream, yell in his face if he needed, instead of this passive behaviour? Then, Ten would know he wasn’t the only one fighting to find the sliver of truth enough to keep them together, when all signs pointed in the other direction. What had gone wrong, for them to end up like this? “It’s— it was complicated. It still is,” Johnny grunted, running his hands through his hair.

“I have all the time in the world,” Ten remarked, tilting his head. Complicated; another excuse without panache, without flair, without credibility. Another easy escape. “Tell me, how is Jaemin alive when Mark, his appointed doctor, the one _you_ asked to never leave his side, is so convinced he died?” Ten asked, crossing his arms over his chest once again, daring Johnny to say anything that wasn’t the absolute truth.

Johnny’s eyes finally met his again. “Because he did,” Johnny admitted, a piece of both their hearts falling apart. What Mark had said was real; none of them had been able to save Jaemin. “He did die. But… there was a way out,” he continued, catching back Ten’s attention. “Medicine. A special cure that cleanses the system of its illnesses, like a reset. A Neo-patented syrup to use as last resort. Gave it to him after he died, every single drop of it, and he woke up.”

So, sheer fucking luck, then, giving a potion to a dead guy in hope, somewhat, his body would still receive it as if he were alive. No matter how many ‘ _this is Neo!_ ’s they could throw around in crazy situations, waking up from the dead didn’t _happen_ like that. Not in Neo, not anywhere else. Johnny should have known better than to rely on a miracle, waiting until after the last second. Had it not been granted to him, he – well, more like Mark – would have had a death on his hands.

“How did you know there was a cure in the first place?” Ten wondered, his brain set on finding the inaccuracies in Johnny’s story. It was working horrifyingly well, the flaws launching themselves in his face. A mysterious magical cure known by him only? “How would you just _happen_ to know something no one else did? Who _are_ you, Johnny Seo?” He shouted that last part, his frustration getting the best of him, or it might have been desperation itching to get out of his body.

Johnny grimaced, a disturbing contrast from his tender eyes begging Ten to believe him, to trust him, at least this once. “I just… knew,” he muttered, reaching out for Ten, retracting his hand when he realised the man wouldn’t give in. “I don’t know how. I’m sorry.”

Great, fucking peachy. Just ‘knew’. How could this keep getting worse? “And how long had you known?” Ten dug further, trying to estimate exactly how shitty a human Johnny was. Waiting after death to save a child, not very Nobel prize worthy. The only way it could be made better was if he had ‘known’ only seconds before Jaemin would release his last breath. That was it; any longer, Johnny would be a terrible person, point blank.

Johnny bit on his lip, looking down. “Since…” He trailed off, his breath shaky. He buried his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket, sighing with a wince. “Since he had first gotten sick.”

Well, here was the piece of truth Ten had searched for all along. He should have been happy to hear sincerity, but here he was, completely and utterly crushed by Johnny’s words, again and again.

Ten gulped, pushing down the feelings threatening to spill out. “Was his life even worth anything to you?” He frowned, handing him some more lifelines, ways to redeem himself in Ten’s eyes. Johnny was a good person. He had to be. Ten knew him, to some extent. He was a good person. _Please, Johnny_.

But Johnny wouldn’t look up. He wouldn’t keep his eyes off the ground, and Ten’s worries only grew stronger. “Ten, I tried. I really did. Everytime I went to visit I wanted nothing more than use it, free him of his misery. I’m not blind, I could see he was suffering. But every time I thought of it… I couldn’t help but think of you,” he looked up, a shiver running down Ten’s spine. Johnny ruffled his own hair, a disheartened chuckle escaping his lips. “I know it was selfish of me, and I’m not proud of it, but I kept thinking. It wouldn’t stop; what if you got sick later and I’d need the medicine, but we had none left? How would I live with myself, if I hadn’t been able to save you?”

Ten had been wrong; he didn’t know this man, not in the slightest. This was the worst thing he had ever heard come out of his lover’s mouth, poison in its purest form. This wasn’t disappointment Ten was feeling towards him anymore – he was disgusted, plain and simple. Refusing to take the blame, and putting it on someone else? A coward’s move. Ten scoffed. “So now it’s my fault.”

Johnny’s eyes widened, waving in dismissal. “No, Ten—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Ten snarled. He had to put an end to this; he didn’t know how much more of this he could handle, how much more of this imposter he could tolerate. He had reached the peak of his anger now, and nothing Johnny could say would grant him redemption. “How could you live with yourself knowing you let another boy die in order to save me, who wasn’t even sick in the first place? How could you live with yourself knowing you’d have broken every single one of these children’s hearts, of ours, for personal gain?” He yelled in the empty streets, laying all his thoughts out in the open, his eyes watering up.

He sighed, blinking down the tears before Johnny could notice. “Had I been on that deathbed and Jeno had had to make the choice, wouldn’t you have wanted him to use it?” Ten put into perspective, exposing all the bad decisions in Johnny’s train of thought with a single sentence. Jaemin hadn’t deserved this, and neither had Mark, and neither had he.

“We did save him,” Johnny reminded, as if that fact alone was enough to erase all his wrongdoings, all his selfish actions standing in the way of a child’s fate, and the extent he had gone to, to keep his lies hidden. “He’s okay now.”

 _We had none left. We did save him_. He had brushed it off the first time, but to repeat it yet another time couldn’t be a mistake on his behalf. “Who is ‘we’, Johnny? What are you still not telling me?” Ten pleaded, close to losing his mind. The way Johnny spoke, like he hadn’t been alone in this, was tearing him apart. Like he had had a partner involved through all this, someone who knew just as much as him, someone he had shared these lies and truths with. Someone who wasn’t Ten.

Someone Johnny trusted more than his own fucking boyfriend. “Why won’t you tell me anything?” Ten’s voice broke, tears spilling out. He covered his mouth, surprised by his own outburst, keeping the sobs from running out. He had been vulnerable in front of Johnny countless times before, crying his heart out over the stupidest things. This wasn’t new. But it was so wrong.

Out of instinct, Johnny reached out towards him, his fingers grazing over Ten’s shoulders. He wished for nothing more than be in Johnny’s warm embrace, the taller absorbing all his heartaches, but Ten stepped back, swallowing down the temptation to run into his arms as his heart screamed out in pain. “No, don’t touch me,” he croaked, a pitiful sound bringing tears to Johnny’s eyes. The latter obliged, bringing his hands back to his sides, and Ten missed them already.

Fuck, how could he be so attached to this lying, manipulative asshole who couldn’t think of anyone but himself? How could he know all the bad things Johnny had indulged them in, and still want him to smile instead of this pained expression painting his face all the wrong colours? Faded to gray, nothing like the colourful drawing hung up in his study for everyone to fall in love with. Why couldn’t real life look the same as on paper?

Ten wiped away his tears, useless as more rolled down his cheeks. “It’s like there’s a selfish monster inside you,” he muttered, unable to look at Johnny. He couldn’t face him now, not with what he was about to say next. He might not ever be able to face him again. “That’s not the guy I fell in love with.”

 _Don’t look at his face. If it hurt to hear as much as it hurt to say, you don’t want to see_. “I don’t know you anymore,” Ten let out, almost inaudible, but the words clashed like fireworks had been set off inside his mind.

He loved Johnny. Ten thought he’d be the one. Some mornings, still tucked in bed, he could let his thoughts wander, think how he wouldn’t mind if they were to put a ring to each other’s fingers. He wouldn’t mind at all, far from it. Johnny was worth it.

For it to shatter like that, it felt like the end of the world. “Ten, please, love,” Johnny urged in the softest voice he could muster, getting as close to Ten as he could without touching him. Any other time, Ten would have found this to be fucking adorable. How unfortunate. “Please listen to me, one minute. That’s all I’m asking—”

Johnny froze mid-sentence, prompting Ten to finally look up at him. Disregarding the unusual shine of his eyes, there was nothing but a blank stare on his face, looking into the distance, as if processing information the way a computer would. “Oh, no. Not now…” Johnny muttered to himself, a frown invading his traits.

“Johnny,” Ten called out his name, bringing him back to reality. The man blinked, his eyes settling on Ten’s face. “I’m listening.”

Johnny blinked again, looking around as if startled by a presence Ten couldn’t see around them. “I… I have to go,” Johnny breathed out, a single tear falling onto his cheek as he looked down at Ten with regret in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Ten. I’m so sorry.”

Ten thought they were done with the stupid excuses. Apparently not, as Johnny once again tried to slip away from a situation he was cornered in. He wouldn’t ever stop, would he? Ten could pour his heart out all he wanted; lying and deceiving had become second nature to Johnny, and he couldn’t be saved anymore. “Why does it always have to be ‘I’ with you? Why can’t we be ‘we’, for once?” Ten cried out, engulfed by despair. “It’s like you’re not even trying to make us work,” he weeped, the tears falling and falling and falling, currents of a river carving into Ten’s cheeks.

When Johnny wrapped his arms around his shaking body, he let him, melting into his, sobbing harder than ever before. He loved him so fucking much, more than he had ever loved anything. Drawing. Painting. Dancing. Laughing. None of them could come close, none of them could ever begin to compare with the way his heart beat stronger for him, only him.

And it terrified Ten, to feel this way. “Go already,” he muttered into Johnny’s chest, after regaining control of himself. He sniffed, breaking off their embrace, still close enough for their bodies to touch. Johnny wiped away his tears with his thumb, knowing none would come back. “It’s Pink, isn’t it?” Ten commented, this early morning’s strange encounter coming back to mind. One of the dots blinking faster than the others, a foreshadowing of events written on that map before anyone else could predict it. The information had finally caught up to Johnny, too.

Wait.

If the computer and Johnny shared the same map, then—

“Yuta, yeah,” Johnny replied. “How did you—”

“It doesn’t matter. None of this does,” Ten exhaled. Oh, Yuta. He hoped nothing drastic had happened. If it had, they’d all break, for good this time. “None of it.”

He let go of Johnny, taking a few steps backwards before turning away completely, his feet leading him on a path he knew all too well. “Ten!” Johnny screamed out from behind. Ten stopped dead in his tracks, turning his head towards the man. Despite it all, Johnny still looked beautiful, and Ten’s eyes wouldn’t ever get tired of looking at him. “Where are you going?”

—then what else did they share, inside the same mind? What about thoughts? _I don’t remember saying that._ Logic? _Every time I thought of it… I couldn’t help but think of you_. Reasoning? _A Neo-patented syrup. I just… knew._

And what if… what if it were to be cut away?

Through the times he had spent in Neo, Ten had wondered a lot about his place inside the city. Johnny would tell him stupid stuff he never believed, like art or culture or other pointless things to a city without life. Neo was lifeless, and Johnny believed Ten to be that first breath it had always missed. But, standing in front of the man he loved, Ten was starting to believe in the opposite. Who else could he be inside Neo, if not the one who would give the city its last breath?

There was one thing left for him to do. “I need to find a fucking axe.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay wig!  
> ...and im not talking about johnny's


	17. JAEMIN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> time can’t heal all wounds; jaemin learns the painful truth.

**xvii**. JAEMIN

 

Jaemin examined his surroundings, eyes wide open searching for clues on his location. A difficult feat, when all the trees looked the exact same, and he could barely tell the difference between flowers and weeds. The forest had always remained unfamiliar to him; he had never tried to explore it without a trusted associate leading the way in and out, yet here he was, standing alone in the middle of the woods, with no idea how to get back to the city.

He had to get back, and fast. He had something to tell Jeno, news he couldn’t bear keep inside any longer. He had to find him and let him know as soon as possible, which should have been easy, had he not woken up in the middle of fucking nowhere. Just his luck. As if the universe had made it its goal to keep them apart.

 _Follow the water_ , Jaemin reminded himself, Renjun’s survival tips coming in handy. Easier said than done, as he didn’t seem close enough to any water source. He stretched his ears, trying to capture the sound of a nearby river, but no such luck. He’d have to walk around and hope for the best.

He began his quest, careful where he put his feet – these roots seemed particularly sneaky, ready to make him fall at any given moment, and he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. He walked and walked, his legs growing tired, yet not a single drop of water in sight. After what seemed to be hours, he felt the urge to give up and let his knees give out on him, when a vivid coloured spot caught his eye.

It was a flower, its petals the brightest shade of pink he had ever seen. Renjun might have known the name of this plant, but Jaemin only knew it was big and pretty with a couple pale streaks in the middle and oh, Jeno would love it.

He crouched and, delicately, he held out the tip of his fingers to touch a petal. Jaemin didn’t know flowers could be so soft. But before he could move his hand away to remove the flower from the earth, the petal he had touched seemed to shrink on itself, slowly losing its colour until it turned an ugly shade of gray.

Jaemin blinked, bewildered, He had never heard of a phenomenon like this. Surely Renjun would have mentioned it – and then the other petals Jaemin hadn’t touched shrunk as well, falling to the ground in a gray daze.

When the stem turned the same shade, Jaemin stood back up, his breathing ragged, looking down at his hands. Soon the neighbouring plants arboured the same gray tint, their leaves drying out and falling just the same, and Jaemin could only stare in panic, surrounded by dying flora caused by his poisoned fingertips.

“Jaemin!” Jeno shouted, yanking the boy to his side. Jaemin blinked, Jeno’s concerned face bringing him back to reality. “Careful there, you almost walked into a pole,” he chuckled, a strange juxtaposition next to his frowning expression. “Everything alright?”

Looking towards where he previously stood before Jeno had brought him to safety, Jaemin could indeed see a very discernable, thick pole he could have easily avoided had his mind not been all over the place. He would be sporting a mean bump to the forehead, had it not been for his friend.

“Yeah,” Jaemin nodded, offering him a smile. “All good.” Jeno didn’t need to know about the peculiar dream haunting him since the morning; it would only worry him more than he already was on a daily basis. It was just a dream, anyway. “Just thinking.”

Jeno squinted his eyes, not entirely convinced, but letting it slide nonetheless, keeping Jaemin close as they walked arm in arm. “Should we go check it out, then?” Jeno hinted, pointing his head towards a narrow street they both knew to be leading closer to City Center. All streets led to City Center, in a way.

At Jeno’s words, it was Jaemin’s turn to frown. “Check out what?” He asked, racking his brain trying to recall if Jeno had mentioned anything they had to do this morning. Had he said something yesterday? Nothing came to mind.

Jeno placed a hand over Jaemin’s forehead, as if checking his temperature. He used to do it a lot when the boy was sick in the hospital, and had kept the habit as a joke between them. Turning the darkest hour of their relationship into a fond memory; only Jeno could have done such a feat. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Jeno wondered, his question genuine. “Did you not hear that big scream?”

No, Jaemin had not. He must have been too caught up in his own daydream to register anything unusual. A scream? Who would be screaming this early in the morning, and for what reason? Barely anything ever happened here. Unless Jaehyun had finally decided to act on his hatred of Renjun and murder him. In which case, they should probably run over there as soon as possible. “Well, what are we waiting for?”

The corners of Jeno’s lips perked up at Jaemin’s eagerness, and the pair let go of each other’s arms to run in direction of the sound. Jaemin trailed a little behind, never the strongest cardio-wise, following Jeno who had heard the sound better than he did. At least someone could tell where they were going. What would he do without Jeno.

Without realising Jeno had arrived at the scene, Jaemin bumped into his back, the former frozen in place. Before Jaemin could ask what was wrong, he froze as well, reality hitting him square in the face with yet another of its detestable surprises.

On Sicheng’s knees rested Yuta’s head, body limp on the ground, Yukhei pacing around the two with his hands behind his head and muttering to himself. Yuta’s eyes were closed as if he were sleeping, but the blood dripping down his nose told another story. And even from afar, Jaemin could notice Sicheng’s entire body was trembling, tears rolling down his cheeks.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had went wrong. Not when the scene was the exact same as the two boys had experienced, an eternity ago, not-long-enough ago.

Jeno and Jaemin still unnoticed, Yukhei crouched down next to his friend, sighing before grabbing his shoulder. “Sicheng, you need to calm down. You won’t be able to help him if you’re like this,” he reasoned, shuffling closer to Sicheng, who too distressed to notice the boy. “Please, look at me,” Yukhei tried again, brows furrowed, groaning when he received no reaction from the older.

Yukhei got up, gripping his hair in frustration, relief flashing across his face when he noted the boys’ presence. Jeno looked over his shoulder, sharing a knowing look with Jaemin, before focusing on Yukhei striding towards them. “Thank fuck you guys are here. He won’t listen to me, and I’m losing my mind,” Yukhei let out, visibly anxious for both his friends. He hadn’t been in Neo yet when Jaemin had gotten sick; his fear and reaction to this new, alarming situation were justified.

Jaemin stepped forward, earning from Jeno an apprehensive glance which he ignored. “It’s okay, Yukhei. I think I can help,” Jaemin suggested, the older giving him a grateful smile. But before he could set out to reach the pair, a hand he knew all too well encircled his wrist, stopping his motion.

He turned on his heels, meeting Jeno’s worried gaze. Of course he would be; Jeno knew exactly what it was to be Sicheng, and how the guy could react in such a setting. Jaemin hadn’t been conscious to witness it, but he had heard enough stories from Mark on how Jeno would growl at anyone who tried approaching Jaemin when the disease first hit him. Once again, the gesture was a simple reminder Jeno looking out for him even to this day; but today, it was Jaemin’s turn to look over someone else. “Jeno, it’s okay,” Jaemin murmured, removing Jeno’s hand from his wrist, giving it a light squeeze in the process. “I’ll be okay.”

Jeno gulped, looking down at his feet, then nodded. Jaemin left his side, marching towards the star-crossed lovers, crouching down next to Sicheng while making sure they had enough space between them as a precaution – Jeno might combust if anything happened to him in the process.

“Hey, Sicheng,” Jaemin said in the softest, most non-threatening voice he could muster. The man didn’t offer any sign of acknowledgement, continuing to stroke Yuta’s hair with shaky fingers. It was heartbreaking to witness, and Jaemin couldn’t even begin to imagine how Sicheng must have felt. “It’s me, Jaemin. Can I take your hand?” He asked, his hand reaching out toward Sicheng’s.

When the latter didn’t push him away, Jaemin carefully took the older’s hand in his own, bringing it over his chest. “Can you follow my breathing?” Jaemin instructed, taking deep breaths and puffing out his lungs for Sicheng to follow his movements. For a moment, the gesture seemed pointless, but after a little while, Sicheng’s breathing evened out. “Yes, good. Inhale, exhale.” Jaemin repeated, reminded of Jeno when he used to calm him down during coughing fits.

Speaking of the boy, he was now sitting behind Jaemin, close enough for his presence to be felt, but at a secure distance to let Jaemin do his job without interfering. As for Yukhei, he had gotten back to pacing around, less pressured into taking responsibility, but troubled all the same.

“Sicheng,” Jaemin called, careful not to make any startling noise. The man had become a ticking time bomb ready to set off anytime; Jaemin had to take all the necessary steps to ensure safe defusion. “From what I can tell, it looks like the same thing that happened to me,” he reminded Sicheng, all in good fun, but somehow, these words seemed to emerge Sicheng of his apathetic state, looking over at Jaemin with frantic eyes, his breathing escalating. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re doing fine,” Jaemin smiled at him, taking deep, loud breaths to incite Sicheng in doing the same. “All I’m saying is, if that’s the case, then he’ll be alright. Look at me! It took time, but I got there.”

Sicheng returned to a calmer state in no time, rubbing one of his eyes with his free hand as he mouthed an emotional ‘ _Thank you_ ’ to Jaemin. They hadn’t spoken to each other much since the older’s arrival, but Jaemin was glad they had been able to share this moment together. Sicheng seemed just as grateful.

Jaemin thought back on his recovery, an important detail he needed to share coming to mind. “Can I tell you a secret?” He started with, earning a small nod from Sicheng. “As long as you’re by his side and support him, as long as you’re strong enough for the both of you, he’ll stay strong,” Jaemin confessed, his cheeks heating up at the thought of the boy who had helped him through so much. The reason he had kept hoping for better days; the reason he had fought so long to stay alive, even when it hurt to breathe. If it weren’t for Jeno, Jaemin knew he would have given up much earlier. “He’ll keep fighting if you do. He’ll be fine. I promise,” Jaemin assured, utterly convinced of it.

Behind them, he could hear Jeno and Yukhei’s hushed voices having a conversation of their own. “How long has it been like this?” Jeno asked the taller, a question on both their minds since the second they had laid eyes on the scene. Jaemin turned his head towards their discussion, just as eager to understand.

Yukhei scratched the back of his neck, his shoulders raised mid-shrug. “We were just walking, the three of us. Yuta stops, turns to us, and he’s… bleeding. Then, I guess he lost consciousness, or something, but Sicheng caught him before he could fall and hurt himself,” he recalled the events, still unsure of what had happened or how to handle it from there. “He broke down pretty much right after. You probably heard the scream,” he tied down the story, pointing his head towards the crying man.

Jeno clicked his tongue, pensive. “If it’s anything like Jaemin, he should wake up pretty soon,” he rationalised, Yukhei sighing in apprehension as he nodded, attentive. “We can bring him to the hospital then; it should be easier if he’s able to walk. Until then—”

“Oh, fuck off,” a voice coming from the side startled the bunch, Jaemin twisting his head to get a better look at the individual: Mark, accompanied by Donghyuck standing behind. A heavy sigh left Mark’s lips as his eyes traveled over the situation presented to him, a harsh reminder of what he must have been trying hard to forget “Not this again.”

Disregarding Mark’s apparent disdain towards the situation, Jaemin turned back to Sicheng, whose hand had started shaking again in Jaemin’s own, alarmed by the newcomers’ arrival. “Look who’s here,” Jaemin whispered to the man, his thumb rubbing the over Sicheng’s fingers. “I’m sure he’ll help Yuta the way he helped me. You don’t have to worry anymore; he’s in good hands,” he reassured the older, who seemed to relax under his words.

Yuta would be alright; Mark had already crouched down next to his unconscious body, taking his pulse the way he used to do with Jaemin. “He needs to go to the hospital,” Mark declared, the others nodding along, but his expression turned in a frown at their agreement. “No, not— not this one, not in Neo. A real hospital, with real doctors, professionals to treat him. Out in the world,” he precised, the weight of his words falling down on them a second too late. “We need to leave Neo.”

Jaemin felt goosebumps climb up his skin. What was that, now? Out in the world, the Not-Neo? Why? Hadn’t he managed to cure Jaemin fine, here in Neo? Granted, Mark lacked the experience, but everything had worked out in the end. Why change all that and go the other way?

Mark stood back up, grimacing. “I can’t help him,” he blurted out, a low gasp coming from behind Jaemin. Donghyuck approached Mark, taking him by the hand and leading him farther from the group. “I’m sorry, Sicheng.”

The tears that had left Sicheng’s eyes welled back up, threatening to spill out again. “What?” Sicheng muttered, the sound echoing back on the city walls with enough power to make the entire Neo tremble, if he desired. He tore his hand away from Jaemin, returning to their previous place over Yuta’s hair.

Jeno, hyper aware of the possible reactions that might explode out of Sicheng, got up in an instant, walking up in front of Mark. “Surely we don’t need to do all that,” Jeno reasoned, a forceful smile thrown Mark’s way. “Jaemin had the same thing, and he turned out fine,” he reminded the boy, a slight tilt of the head betraying his confusion. Jaemin knew Jeno too well.

Movement caught Jaemin’s attention from the corner of his eye, yet another citizen stumbling upon the scene; this time, it was Johnny, out of breath, his eyes all blotched from… crying? What even? This whole thing was getting stranger by the minute.

“Mark,” Johnny called out, his tone full of bark, a warning sign directed at the boy. Everyone’s attention was on Johnny now, waiting for his next words, but when nothing came out, Mark took the reins and spoke up again.

“Jaemin… didn’t end up fine,” he bit down on his lip, looking away from Jeno and down at his feet. Donghyuck put his free hand over his shoulder, whispering into his ear. Mark nodded, his eyes leaving the ground to stare into Jaemin’s, a shiver unlike any other running down the latter’s spine. Mark’s eyes contained a sadness he had never witnessed in anyone before; something must have gone terribly wrong, for him to possess it. “Jaemin died.”

The city fell into brooding silence as each person tried to decipher the meaning behind his words, Jaemin included. That couldn’t be a real thing, right? “The fuck are you on about, Mark,” Jeno snapped, a distorted chuckle climbing out of his mouth. “He’s right here. Do you not see him?” He added, pointing towards him, but Jaemin’s focus was on Donghyuck, who wore the same look in his eyes as Mark did, whose eyes trailed anywhere but on him; and then, on Johnny in the corner, his eyes shut tight, hands balled into fists as he kept shaking his head faster the longer this unbearable silence stretched.

“I know, and it’s a fucking miracle,” Mark smiled, although it wouldn’t reach his eyes. He wouldn’t stop staring at Jaemin, his train of thought plastered over his face for Jaemin only to read, to understand. Jaemin wished he could turn blind. Mark looked away, after a moment. “But I’m sorry, Jeno. I tried all I could. And in the end… I couldn’t save him.”

Mark wasn’t lying. Mark wasn’t a liar. Everytime Jaemin had asked him ‘How am I doing today?’, Mark would reply ‘I’d tell you if I knew’. Mark never sugarcoated things. Mark had never given him the false hope he’d overcome the illness. Mark wasn’t a liar; not back then, and not today either.

Jaemin got up, his knees aching from the awkward position he had been in. Mark stepped forward, letting go of Donghyuck’s hand. “Jaemin, I—”

“I… need a moment,” Jaemin interrupted, harsh and demanding, his mind all over the place. If he didn’t go and clean up the mess now, he could say goodbye to his sanity. “If you’ll excuse me,” he bowed, turning on his heels, his feet carrying him to the nearest alley, his ears muting out the sound of Jeno’s voice calling out his name.

And when he was sure no one could see him anymore, far enough from the disaster everyone seemed to play a part in, he let out the most painful exhale he had ever kept in, back pressed to a wall, sliding down to the cold hard ground where he should have been laying six feet under.

It made no sense, yet all the sense. How he had gone from barely alive to miraculously cured in a day, coughing his lungs out in the morning with blood on his tongue to full of energy and will in the evening, although no changes had been made to his treatment. Just a nap that had never been one in the first place.

How Mark had gone from sweet and caring one moment, to almost pushing him out of the hospital when they had received the news of his recovery. Not so strange after all; he was scared of Jaemin, or what Jaemin might have turned into after a trip from the one place no one could come back from, no one should come back from.

Even the dreams, the stupid dreams he thought meant nothing. Everything he touched turning to ashes, the life sucked out of them, souls touched by a hand which shouldn’t have been moving anymore. A hand marked by death.

Without mentioning the existential dread following him around, wondering at any moment what he had done to deserve this monstrosity on his back, crushing his ribs, taking all that was left of him. What he had done to be freed of it, crawling out of his mouth to die at the touch of Neo’s oxygen. Why him? Why, in a city free of destruction, illness, all the bad things of the world Renjun had told them on horror nights, why let one in?

And how had he survived it, when all the odds were against him?

Stuck in his spiralling thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the sound of footsteps coming his way until Mark was sitting down in front of him, back pressed against the opposite wall of the narrow street he had chosen as exile. He was hugging his legs to his chest, mouth shut, but Jaemin could tell he had much to say. Unfortunate; so did Jaemin.

“How could you not tell me, Mark?” Jaemin snapped, coming off stronger than he had intended, but who was he to keep these emotions from running out when they deserved answers as much as he did? How could Mark omit, _forget_ to say such a vital piece of information to its rightful owner?

Mark looked up, straight into Jaemin’s eyes. There was a calming presence to Mark, and now that he was finally unafraid to look Jaemin in the eyes again, he could feel it spread around, putting out the tension in his chest. “I should have said something, I know. I’m sorry,” Mark apologised, remorse evident on his features. “It’s… how do you begin to explain that?” He shrugged, prickling at the skin around his fingernails.

Jaemin let him continue, sensing his inner turmoil. “I— I saw you die, you know,” he stammered, thinking back on the day that had changed both their lives. Jaemin had been so caught up in his own demise, he hadn’t considered the possibility it had made Mark suffer, too. To keep this inside for so long… no wonder he wouldn’t speak to the younger after that. “If it was this hard for me to believe you were back… what would it have been like, for you? Would it have helped, or made it harder to move on?” Mark pondered, a question Jaemin wasn’t sure he wanted answered.

“I couldn’t put you through that,” he continued. “You believed it was over. I wanted to believe it was over. I thought keeping it to myself was for the better. I’m sorry if it wasn’t,” Mark apologised again, as if he were scared Jaemin would never forgive him.

Of course Jaemin would forgive the friend who saved his life, even when he believed his efforts were worthless. “It wouldn’t have helped with anything at all, but it’s better than being kept in the dark,” Jaemin said, still a little stung by having to find out so late. Let him be petty just a little more; he had died, for fuck’s sake. “Anyway, it doesn’t look like we’ll be staying long enough for this to matter in the long run,” he added, thinking back to the ill-stricken man surrounded by seventeen clueless fools.

Logically speaking, there was one way for everything to end up satisfying at best: Yuta had to be cured. For Yuta to be cured, according to Mark, he had to leave; and if Yuta had to go into the Not-Neo, then Sicheng would, too. Yukhei, Jaehyun and Taeyong had been waiting forever for an opportunity like this; they’d jump on the bandwagon without question, bringing their significant others along. And realistically, Neo wouldn’t withstand up the loss of multiple people at once, leaving the rest of them no choice but to follow along if they didn’t want to be crushed by a weather crisis like nothing they had ever experienced. Logically speaking, Yuta catching the illness could mean Neo City’s end. That is, if they ever found the way out.

But that was a problem for later. Now was time for apologies of his own. “Mark. I hope you know I don’t hold you responsible for anything that happened,” Jaemin addressed. “None of it was your fault. I died all by myself, okay? You had nothing to do with it. Don’t blame yourself, please,” he stressed, wanting nothing but the best for him. He owed him as much, and Mark too deserved a happy ending. “Jeno might be a little angry at you for a while, though,” he warned, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’ll pass. You know how he can get.”

“When it comes to you? Yeah, I know all about it,” Mark chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. Jaemin blushed. Yeah, Jeno had gotten a bit of an attitude around the hospital, and with Mark in charge, the two had fought heads on more times than they could count. Mark offered him a smile. “Thank you, Jaemin.”

He should have been happy with the way things had turned out, yet Jaemin wasn’t completely satisfied; there was something else he felt the need to mention, something no one else could know. “Mark, what if… what if dying fucked me up?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck. No one had ever died in Neo, much less be brought back. What if his return had come to a price he had been unaware of? What if he were bound to Neo, and if he dared step out, death would claim him again? “What if I can’t ever leave this place?” He voiced his concerns to the older, chewing on his bottom lip. What would be worse; never being able to cross the threshold, or having the possibility to go, only to die putting a foot on foreign ground?

Mark looked up to the sky, bright and blue, not a cloud in sight, then got up to his feet, brushing the dust off his pants. “Then I guess we’ll have to stay. Me and Hyuck. Jeno. Renjun. We’ll kick out all the boring people and start over. I’m sure Jisung and Lele would love that, too,” Mark suggested, bringing a smile to Jaemin’s lips. He was so lucky to have friends like them, friends willing to stick with him through thick and thin, he might cry of gratefulness. “Sounds like a plan?”

Jaemin giggled, nodding. “Thank you, Mark,” he smiled, the older coming closer to ruffle his pink hair before leaving him to his own thoughts, Mark’s footsteps echoing further and further away.

He would have never survived without his friends, that was for sure. Even when Donghyuck came to visit the hospital for Mark rather than him, it was enough to lift his spirits. All of Renjun’s stories about the Not-Neo, an opportunity to leave the city behind and travel into these fantasy worlds of his, forgetting for an instant the dark cloud hovering around him. Jisung’s sneaky visits at random hours of the day, Doyoung unaware of the secret tunnel he would use to get into the room unnoticed, slipping little words of encouragement to Jaemin before disappearing. And Chenle’s worries making him forget his own, trying to stay strong for his sensitive friend.

Without each and everyone of them, Jaemin would have been a goner. He’d forever cherish everything they had done for him, the smallest details never to be forgotten. Even Neo couldn’t take that away from him.

But of course, there was one more person to thank. His lifeline, walking towards him in the alley, streaks of dried tears visible across his cheeks as he sat down next to him, taking Jaemin’s hand in his own like his life depended on it. Deep breaths rumbled in Jeno’s ribcage, his emotions threatening to spill out all over them, and Jaemin couldn’t stand seeing him so demolished by a few words, words that didn’t have to mean anything anymore; they were together, weren’t they?

“Jeno—”

“Don’t say anything,” Jeno stopped him, reaching out for Jaemin’s other hand to hold onto. Jaemin let him, both hands in his tight grasp, but he couldn’t complain. “I have something to say first.” There was so much sorrow in his best friend’s eyes, unable to look at him. So many rough edges to his voice, tainted by feelings he had tried to hide. Jaemin wished they had been struck by a different tragedy, one where Jeno could end up with the brightest of smiles on his face. Even if it came to Jaemin’s expense. Jeno’s smile would always be worth it.

“When you were sick, I never wanted to prepare for the worst; I didn’t want to think of a world where I didn’t have you,” Jeno started, a lump in his throat Jaemin wanted gone. “But I still figured I needed to write something. In case I was unlucky enough to lose you.”

Tears dropped from Jeno’s eyes. “And I did. I never knew, but I did,” he croaked, his breath stuck in his throat. Jaemin cupped his cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before he’d start crying, too; seeing him like this hurt more than a thousand diseases. “It’s only fair I tell you now. The words I’d say if I lost you.”

He let go of Jaemin’s hand for a quick second, reaching out into the pocket of his pants to retrieve a folded piece of paper stained of various substances. “I never finished it, actually. That’s why I kept it with me, in case I ever found the inspiration. A reminder to never take things for granted,” he said, a bittersweet smile on his lips as he unfolded the piece of paper. “You never know when the ones you love might be taken away.”

It hit Jaemin then – how angry he was at Neo for doing this to him. This anger had never been about himself for being so weak, or the pain of the illness; rather, what Neo was doing to Jeno through him, and kept doing even to this day. Jaemin was fucking angry. It was all Neo’s doing. Neo giving him the disease in a sterile world. Neo breaking Jeno’s heart over and over.

And here he was, letting it happen. Letting Jeno cry over him too many times to count in a hospital room devoid of hope. Letting himself become Neo’s puppet, all strings attached, a lifeless doll if ever he threads were cut apart. Yet another gritty surprise for Jeno to stumble upon, if it were the case. Again and again, Jeno’s heart breaking into pieces too small to be put back together. And here he was, letting it happen.

Neo might have enforced it, but Jaemin had done nothing to stop it.

Jeno let out a nervous chuckle as he reread his words, shaking his head and grimacing. “I’m warning you; it’s super cringy, but please don’t laugh,” he requested, his tender gaze upon Jaemin. He tore his eyes away with a sigh, and read out his heart’s content.

 

“ _To an unrecognizable look as we go down our own road_

_Our gazes may reach each other one day_

_Even if it’s in silence, our voices will reach each other_

_We will worry about each other like always_

_Don’t forget we are in touch_

_Always in the same time, the same place, we were always together_

_We don’t have the courage_

_The words we couldn’t speak, the words we couldn’t deliver._ ”

 

No one else was doing this to Jeno, not even Neo; Jaemin was the one doing this. _He_ was the one breaking his heart. _He_ was the one making him cry, the one making him sad, the one fueling these words of despair because of his inability to do anything right. The one rejecting Jeno, when he knew all too well how the boy felt about him. It was _his_ fault Jeno was like this, and it would keep being his fault until they’d part ways, and then again, it would still be his fault for leaving.

And so, at Jeno’s words, Jaemin broke down. Lost it, tears blinding his vision, hiccups turning into loud sobs he couldn’t contain as Jeno wrapped his arms around him, holding him so tight Jaemin was afraid he’d stop breathing, but at the same time hoping he would. He cried and cried and couldn’t stop, shaking and sniffing and all the ugliness pouring out of him in that singular moment in Jeno’s arms, and it should have been so beautiful with all the pretty sentences melting into each other with Jeno’s voice, his beautiful voice, and Jaemin should have been happy, they both should have been, why couldn’t they be happy?

Why must the universe keep them apart? “I’m sorry, Jeno, I’m so sorry,” Jaemin sobbed, barely intelligible, but repeated enough, maybe they’d start to make sense. And so he repeated them into Jeno’s neck, again and again as the boy patted his hair with too much softness for what he deserved. “I’m sorry for everything,” he muttered, calming down with every stroke of the hair, every shush whispered in his ear, every kiss pressed to his temple.

“It’s okay, Nana, it was never your fault,” Jeno whispered, ever so caring as he swayed Jaemin in his arms, the rhythm enveloping him with a sense of comfort he grasped tightly. Or maybe it was just Jeno’s shirt, his scent calming down his frantic heartbeat. “You don’t have to apologise for anything.”

“No, I have to,” Jaemin objected, feeling a wave of despair crash over him again, a sob leaving his mouth. He raised his head up, making sure to look Jeno in the eyes. “I hurt you, and I’ll never be sorry enough. I’m sorry for making you doubt my love for you. Because I do, Jeno, I really do love you,” he finally admitted, a broken dam letting all the rivers of Neo fall from his eyes into the other’s shirt when Jeno brought him closer again, his head muffled in the crook of his neck. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay,” Jeno reassured his friend, his hand running up and down Jaemin’s back, the gesture so soothing it only made him cry harder out of the pure joy he felt from hearing Jeno call him _baby_. He loved him so fucking much. Every part of Jaemin was in love with Lee Jeno, and after all this time, Jaemin had found the way to embrace it. “I love you so much too.”

Between the sobs and tears, Jaemin let out a laugh. What a day; from making pancakes with Jeno in the morning to learning of his late passing, without forgetting the existential crises rising up at every corner and confessing to the boy he had loved for longer than he could remember. The way the world worked was funny. But at least he had Jeno to experience it with.

Jaemin calmed down. In Jeno’s embrace his breathing relaxed, his muscles let go of tension, his thoughts became clearer than the garbled mess they used to be. Side by side, Jeno’s arm slung around his shoulder, they listened to the lullabies of the wind, enjoying the time they had left together, unconditional love protecting them from the universe’s will. Over their heads, the blue skies had gained a few clouds; nevertheless, the wind kept singing its song for them only to hear, unbothered, the only free soul of this city. Where Neo had failed them, the wind always brought them back on their feet.

All good things had to come to an end; and when the wind turned into silence, Jeno spoke up. “Should we head back?” He hinted, his thumb brushing the base of Jaemin’s neck. “More people gathered after you left, almost everyone. Even Jungwoo showed up; Yukhei forgot how to breathe for a second,” he recalled, the situation so _Yukhei_ Jaemin could picture it to perfection. “But if you’d rather stay here, I don’t mind at all.”

Jaemin would have loved to stay with Jeno in their bubble of happiness away from reality, but they had to think of the bigger picture. Sicheng and Yuta were still out there, their fates pending in Neo’s balance, and it was Jaemin and Jeno’s responsibility to lead them to a semblance of safety. Which meant helping out in the search for the way out, even if the answer had the awful possibility of costing Jaemin his life once again.

He thought about mentioning his fear of disappearing to Jeno, how he wasn’t sure he’d be able to follow him to the other side when the time came, but after all he had put Jeno through, he revised against it. Jeno would only worry, or worse, try to stay behind for him, and Jaemin would crumble in guilt if anything ever went wrong again. It was best for him not to know. If their path was to end this way, Jaemin would let it be. He was happy, now; not even death could take it away from him. There would never be a better ending to their story than the unconditional love they felt for each other, a morning in Neo City.

Or, he was overthinking to the extreme, and nothing bad would happen. One or the other.

Jaemin got up to his feet, Jeno doing the same. “We probably should. I’m worried for Sicheng,” Jaemin voiced his concerns, the man who had broken down this hard over someone he refused to call his lover becoming his priority once again. “It must be hard, to see the love of your life in a state like this.” Sicheng may have been clueless in the face of love, but the rest of them weren’t: they all knew Sicheng loved Yuta as much as Yuta loved him. They just had different ways of showing it.

“It is,” Jeno nodded, taking Jaemin’s hand in his own and intertwining their fingers. Jaemin’s cheeks caught on fire; when had Jeno become such a sweet talker? _The love of his life_. Not that he was complaining. Far from it. “Let’s go, then.”

  
  


Jaemin thought the scene had been quite messy when he had stormed off, but it was nothing compared to the shit show going on when they came back. Sicheng had stopped crying, only to harbour an expression of fury he had never witnessed to this extent on anyone, ever. Taeyong-finding-out-Hansol-had-left kind of fury included. There were way too many people surrounding Yuta, everyone taking turns in finding his pulse and offering Sicheng a sympathetic smile – emphasis on the _pathetic_. Mark had taken Yukhei’s job of pacing around, with an addition of yells for Johnny to do something, ‘ _pull that trick again_ ’, the man in charge giving him no answer.

An overall disaster, to put it simply. “Yuta should have gotten up by now. I don’t think Jaemin ever bled this much when he was sick,” Mark noted, earning a disapproving glare from Jaehyun, whose eyes moved back and forth between Sicheng and him in exasperation. Mark sighed, and Jaemin could tell he was on the verge of exhaustion. “Don’t make that face. I’m just saying, as I’ve already said, we need to get moving. His condition won’t improve if we don’t do anything.”

“Mark is right,” a voice emerged from the dark, the citizens moving aside to let the figure into the light: Taeil. Taeil? “Yuta will die if we stay.”

Although Mark had been saying the same thing since he had first analysed the scene, Jaemin could hear a few shocked gasps from the crowd at Taeil’s statement. Mark shook his head, giving up and to join Donghyuck to the side, leaving Taeil the spotlight – who had stolen it anyway. Taeil never interacted with any of them; what could he have to say now that would help?

Taeil towered over Yuta’s unconscious form, Sicheng’s grip on the man’s shirt tightening slightly, but enough for Jaemin to notice. The oldest tilted his head, crouching down at Yuta’s feet. “I’m sorry, but he’s not waking up. Not in Neo,” Taeil declared, his hand hovering over the ill-stricken man.

Before Taeil’s hand could come close enough to Yuta’s face, Sicheng grabbed the man’s wrist, putting a halt to whatever move he had been planning. “Get your filthy fucking hands off him or I’ll chop them off myself,” Sicheng’s voice grounded, even louder than before, the ground at their feet trembling. It wasn’t unusual to hear Sicheng’s voice against the walls of the city, his way of talking differentiating him from the others since the beginning; but never had his voice been used to a weapon’s intensity. Jaemin wasn’t even sure Sicheng had known prior of this ability as he grew wide-eyed, letting go of Taeil’s wrist.

“Noted,” Taeil got up, rubbing at the skin where Sicheng’s hand had touched him. He looked around, eyeing the citizens, his gaze staying on Johnny a second longer than anyone else, before speaking up again. “With the state he’s in, he won’t be able to leave alone. But, even better,” he raised his shoulders, a tight-lipped smile on his face, “if two of us bail now, the rest will suffer from it, Neo guarantee,” he assured, looking down at Yuta yet again.

Exactly as Jaemin had predicted, one would become two, which would become eighteen. They couldn’t risk the damages done to the town, not when they had suffered a massive flood, a desert storm and a week-long blizzard while entrapped in City Hall, because of one departure. For Yuta, they’d all have to pull their weight. They had to leave once and for all.

“The sky is already changing. We don’t have much time,” Taeil remarked, prompting the crowd to look up; indeed, the clouds Jeno and Jaemin had witnessed earlier had transformed into a singular menacing gray blob over their heads, darkening with the passage of time.

“Renjun?” Taeil called out to the crowd, searching for his face amongst the many, frowning when he couldn’t see him. Why would Taeil need to talk with Renjun, of all people? Had Jaemin missed an important part of the story?

Coming up from behind Kun, Renjun shuffled closer to the center, just as surprised as Jaemin. “Y— Yeah?” He stuttered, his face paling as Taeil approached him.

Taeil’s expression was unreadable. It gave Jaemin shivers, and he wasn’t even facing him; he couldn’t imagine how Renjun must have felt, all eyes on him. “I’m sorry, but I promise this is the last time anyone is asking,” Taeil forewarned, his gaze turning softer all of a sudden. “Will you take us to the exit?”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jeno's eulogy from his part in dear dream, translation from [color coded lyrics](https://colorcodedlyrics.com/2018/09/nct-dream-dear-dream)
> 
> one chapter left...


	18. TAEIL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taeil’s sole purpose has been waiting for this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle up kids this is what you call, a long ass ride
> 
> my hands are shaking posting this omg

**xviii**. TAEIL

 

“There’s still something I don’t get,” Taeil wondered, his arms crossed over his chest as he observed the quiet city stretching in front of his eyes. The wind rang in his ears, disheveling his hair, stroking his cheeks under the bright sky. Soon today’s assigned Keeper would change the days into nights, skipping over the favourite part of Taeil’s day: the sunset. He would have to grow used to it, he kept repeating to himself every time he watched the cloth’s turning, darkening the horizon in the blink of an eye. “How come are we so dissatisfied with utopia?” He asked, turning his head towards Hansol, his shades on, sunbathing on one of the plastic chairs they had brought over.

Hansol furrowed his eyebrows, letting the sunglasses fall down the bridge of his nose. “This place is utopia to you?” He questioned, the corners of his lips tugging down on his smile, faltering at Taeil’s statement. “Your dream world looks like an old medieval city with a broken fountain surrounded by every existing climate on Earth, minus the animals? That’s your perfect city? The emptiest place ever created?” Hansol pointed out, pushing his shades back up with a sly grin. “If this were utopia, you would be home with Jisung right now. Not speaking nonsense on a rooftop with me.”

Taeil grimaced at the comparison. The Jisung card was a sensitive one, but Hansol had never been one to handle touchy subjects with discretion. “Didn’t have to rub salt in that wound, but I get where you’re coming from,” Taeil acknowledged, huffing in annoyance. “Are you at least going to pretend to be sorry?” He requested, knowing full well the other would deny, but teasing him anyway.

“You know that’s not how I roll, Taeil-ah,” Hansol objected, shifting in his chair in search of a comfier position, squeaky noises disrupting the silence of the city. “But I’ll keep wishing things get better for you, promise.”

An odd thing to share in a casual conversation, Taeil thought. “You’re talking as if you’re not going to be here anymore,” he remarked, suspicions growing as the other kept his mouth shut at the observation. Now couldn’t be the time, could it? “Hansol?”

“Taeil,” he replied, removing his sunglasses, fingers tapping on the mantles. “These people are getting too comfortable. Are we the only ones able to see Neo as it is? Taeyong told me the other day this felt like paradise. He has one friend, which is me, and no hobbies. Paradise, really? And that’s one person out of seventeen. How is anyone comfortable like this?” Hansol ranted, his hands ever so expressive as he spoke. Then, a sigh escaped his lips, his eyes on Taeil. “Even you think this is supposed to be the ideal world.”

Taeil knew something like this would happen, but not so soon. Someone was bound to get tired of the Neo lifestyle and leave for good – not in the whiny Jaehyun way, pretending to hate the city while never acting up on it. No, it would be someone determined, someone with nothing to lose. But why did it have to be him, of all people? “You can’t just leave, Hansol.”

Not many people had tried approaching Taeil, when the locals had been introduced to Neo. In fact, no one at all, except for Hansol, who had made it his duty to check up on the eldest once in a while. Why, Taeil had never known, but there had been a comfort to Hansol he must have missed more than he cared to admit, for he poured out all his insecurities on him, one night. Jisung, their early arrival, his role in Neo’s survival, the first foreigner’s fate, the dreadful future looming over them, he had told Hansol everything. Ever since, Taeil’s admiration of him had grown more and more, up to the point he couldn’t imagine being in Neo without him.

And now he wanted to go. “They need a disturbance, something to shake them up, open their eyes to the reality of this place,” Hansol argued, speaking from the heart. “This can’t be paradise. I won’t let Taeyong or the others become delusional when there is so much more out there, waiting for them to step into the right direction.”

Taeyong. Hansol must not have known about the ball of rage tucked next to his heart, and the consequences this proximity might involve. “So you’re going to leave him, instead?” Taeil accused; it was his job to look out for everyone, even those he had never exchanged a word with. “No friends, no hobbies? You know he loves you, right?”

It was written all over his face; Hansol knew. He knew, and he didn’t feel the same way. Big bold letters carved into his skin, leaving Taeil to wonder if he were leaving with heroism in mind rather than slip past a problem he didn’t want to face, willing to escape the inescapable to keep his feelings hidden from someone who deserved to know the truth.

Hansol sighed, looking away. “Can I trust you to find him someone? Someone who will care,” he asked as the Moon took place in the sky. Soon, the Sun would say his goodbyes as he would be put to sleep until the next morning, the colours of the sunset thrown away as well. “And… can I trust you to help me out?”

Curse his defenses from forbidding him to make a decision for himself. Others had to come first. And if what they wanted was to leave, no matter how much Taeil would rather they stay, he had to oblige. The greater good might depend on it. “Only if you can prove you’ll be safe,” he bargained, trying to keep a straight face, hide the displeasure he held inside. Hide the sadness he could already feel seeping through his veins.

Hansol got up from his chair, a smile on his face. “If that’s all it takes, consider it done,” he agreed in no time, having predicted Taeil wouldn’t let him go so easily and cooked up a plan in advance. “I’ll send you the biggest disturbance I can find. Neo will probably try to get me back in once I leave, knowing how clingy this place is; it shouldn’t be so hard to slip someone else through the door instead. Someone Neo won’t have control over, ever. Then, you’ll know I made it.”

“And what if you don’t make it past the doorway?” His plan was risky in so many aspects. He had to leave, first, and then again, what if this exit was more of a death trap, swallowing the souls of anyone who crossed it? Then came the question, could it be possible he forget Neo once on the other side? All but Taeil had forgotten their past lives as they first went through; the same phenomenon might happen in reverse. Hansol could forget all about the proof to send him. Forget all about Taeil.

“Then… it will have been my decision, and I’ll suffer the consequences,” Hansol accepted his fate, looking over at his friend as he shifter closer towards him. “Please, Taeil,” he demanded, his tone soft, voice sweet as always. “I know you want to help them out, too. They need to know there’s a way out. This is the only way they’ll listen. Trust me.”

Taeil sighed. The man had already made up his mind; nothing he could say would change the outcome. “There are other ways, Hansol. You just don’t want to search any further.” As he spoke, the Sun was ripped away from the sky’s fabric, plunging the city into darkness. Convenient, this shadow over Taeil’s heart. “But if you’re dead set on leaving… I know someone who can help.”

  
  


} {

  
  


“You,” Jaehyun spat, his head slowly turning towards Renjun, the boy still unsure of what had been asked of him. Fear sparked up in the younger’s eyes as the older marched his way, his steps growing faster along with the anger possessing him. Menacing enough for Taeil to feel the terror engulfing Renjun in the way his breath got stuck in his throat, dreading to hear what Jaehyun had to say next. “You were the one who knew all this time, motherfucker?”

“Jaehyun!” Doyoung shouted, hoping to catch his attention and stop him from walking any closer to the boy, in vain. Jaehyun was furious, fire in his eyes, his hands balling to fists as he glared at the boy who had thrown wrenches in his plans for years. All could tell what was about to happen; why weren’t any of them moving?

At last someone unfroze, running off from their spot and stepping in front of Renjun, shielding him with their body. If anyone could take on Jaehyun, it was him, Yukhei, his height granting him a slight advantage, as well as the fact he had, for one, nothing to lose, and two, boiling anger he hadn’t been able to release in ages, powerful enough to rival the older’s own. Jaehyun stopped dead in his tracks, clenching his jaw at the sight of the younger standing between him and his prey. A glimpse of betrayal flew across Jaehyun’s eyes, disappearing quickly, but never fast enough to slip past Taeil. Taeil never missed a thing.

“I’d rethink that move if I were you,” Yukhei warned, his eyes throwing daggers at Jaehyun, ready to strike if the older took a step forward. Yukhei must have cared a lot more about his group of Kunbelievers than he showed, stepping into defense mode for one of them without a single doubt. Hansol had chosen his disturbance better than Taeil thought.

Taking advantage of the twist of events, Doyoung walked over and grabbed Jaehyun by the sleeve, leading him the furthest he could from the younger boys, rows of insults coming out of his mouth. If there was one thing Doyoung loved more than Jaehyun, it was the kids; put the two against each other, even Taeil couldn’t tell who would win.

As Yukhei turned around to ask Renjun if he were okay, Taeyong stepped forward to speak up, this time directed to Taeil. “You said this was the last time anyone would ask for the exit,” he recalled the eldest’s statement from before the simili-fight had erupted. Kun frowned at Taeyong’s words, soon replaced by sorrowful realisation. “Who… asked him the first time?” Taeyong said, his eyes shifting Renjun’s way, the poor boy inaudibly thanking his saviour, teary eyed.

“Don’t blame the kid,” Taeil interjected, grabbing Taeyong’s attention back. He took a deep breath. “It was me. I asked him to leave. Renjun had nothing to do with it,” he assured, still dead set on covering up Hansol’s image. He had once thought it would be better for Taeyong to know the truth; the more time passed, the less Taeil was convinced of it, carrying his friend’s secret to the tomb if he had to.

Taeyong’s face turned sour for a second, another crisis in the making, but to Taeil’s surprise, he swallowed down the bitterness, nodding and returning to his previous spot next to Kun. That was it? He had accepted it almost right away? Wow. Something in Taeyong had changed for the better. Or maybe he had grown out of love. Either way, Taeil had Kun to thank. Someone who cared.

Now that all red flags had been taken care of, Taeil could finally get down to business. He felt bad approaching Renjun after the backlash he had received, but there were no other ways around it. Taeil only knew the fact Renjun knew; had he known where in Neo the exit was situated, he would have lead them over that spot a long time ago.

Yukhei stepped back as he saw Taeil approaching, a frown growing on Renjun’s face. Of course the younger would be distrustful; he must have thought only Hansol had known, and with his departure, safe would be his secret. Yet here Taeil was, knocking at his door with no intent on leaving before he had gotten what he wanted. “Would you do this for us, Renjun?” Taeil asked, looking into the younger’s eyes; it would help him figure out his intentions.

“I—” Renjun stuttered, the simple word giving Taeil all the information he needed. The reticence to speak, barely protecting himself from Jaehyun’s impending attack that could have injured him, hiding behind the crowd to avoid being called on: he didn’t want any part of this. He didn’t want to tell what he knew, and he didn’t want to leave either. Taeil had always been able to read people from their voices, figure out exactly what they needed with a few words. And what Renjun needed, was for someone to understand. “I don’t feel I have the choice,” he let out, his eyes trailing over to Sicheng and Yuta, in the same position they had been in for what could be at least an hour now – hard to tell, when Neo didn’t possess the ability to perceive time.

“Makes two of us,” Taeil whispered for Renjun’s ears only, a solemn fact no one would be able to understand anyway. Except maybe Jisung, but that road lead to a dead end; he wasn’t welcomed over there anymore. He wasn’t welcomed anywhere. Taeil had no one.

But he could tell Renjun felt the same, and the right words exchanged in loneliness might be exactly what they needed. “There’s a river,” Renjun started, his voice unsure if he should say anything more, but Taeil’s eyes were magnetic, pulling the truth out of him. “All bodies of water bring back to the city, except for one. Follow it, and you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

Intricate landscape design no one but Renjun had explored to its fullest potential. If anything, Neo itself must have shown him the way, as a thank you for appreciating its beauty when all the rest of them could do was complain. “Could you lead us, Renjun?” Taeil requested, hoping the boy would put aside his personal feelings for the common good. For Yuta, at least. “We can’t afford to lose anymore time, and you’re the expert here. It would be a great help,” he sugarcoated, emphasis on the ‘losing time’ part in hopes the younger would make up his mind a little quicker.

What a twisted joke of fate to give the way out to the only one who would prefer staying. Although still reluctant, Renjun nodded, walking away to stand in front of the alleyway leading to said river. Without the need for further instructions, the younger boys gathered around Renjun, whispering in hushed tones, concerned for their friend. Meanwhile, the older citizens stood still in their respective spots, murmuring amongst themselves, and Taeil rolled his eyes at their slow behaviour; would he have to herd them like sheep, telling them what to do at all times?

“What are you all waiting for? Get moving,” Taeil instructed, pointing towards Renjun and the boys moving down the alley. The bite in his voice seemed to snap the citizens out of it, scrambling off to join the group at last. The sky kept darkening every minute, and thunder would likely break out soon, if not accompanied by rain. It would only make things more difficult – Neo’s intended purpose, if Taeil were to guess.

City almost cleared out of its inhabitants, he turned around to see Sicheng putting his arms under Yuta’s body, prepared to carry him all the way over to the exit. Taeil ran up to the pair; he could render himself useful for the walk and offer some assistance. “Here, I’ll help you carry him—”

“I said don’t touch him.” Sicheng’s voice bounced off the walls, less powerful than before, but just as gripping, his low tone giving Taeil chills. He should have expected Sicheng to never forgive him for fake flirting with Yuta, even if it had been with purpose. Not to forget the fact Sicheng carried his friend home at least once a week from the fatigue caused by changing the days into nights; he would have been fine without anyone’s help anyway, and could probably rip Taeil’s tongue out if he wanted. “I’ll be fine on my own, thank you very much,” Sicheng declined through gritted teeth, walking away.

Taeil should have been able to join the rest of the citizens now, but from the corner of his eye he noticed one last member refraining from following the troupe, biting down his lip as he fiddled with his hands. He had expected Johnny to be against the idea – the one who had spent his entire stay fighting for unity between the city and its people – but now that the man had been emotionally worn down by earlier circumstances, the time couldn’t have fallen any better.

Taeil walked up to him, his mind bubbling up with backup plans in case his initial approach failed to work. “Johnny. We have to go,” he set the scene, clear and to-the-point. They had no time to waste; how many more times would he have to remind them?

“I can’t,” Johnny refused, looking behind him every few seconds. These few words were enough information for Taeil to register what had happened to shake him up this bad, an adapted strategy presenting itself to the older man. “I have to wait for Ten. I’m not leaving without him.”

Taeil had been so focused on Renjun, he hadn’t realised Ten’s absence from the crowd. But Taeil was an expert at reading between the lines, and with the backstory Johnny had subconsciously given him, there was no need to worry; what Ten had set out to do had to be done, for Johnny’s sake. And if Ten had figured it all out without anyone’s help, he sure would be smart enough to join them in time.

“Ten is a grown man with plenty of resources. He’ll find his way, trust me,” Taeil assured the man, putting a hand over his shoulder. Johnny had made mistakes during his course, but he had always been an important pillar to the community and Taeil was grateful for him, even if his firm tone and furrowed eyes could suggest otherwise. “But now, when I say we’re going, we are going, Johnny. This isn’t an option.”

For a fraction of second, confusion etched itself on Johnny’s face. _Who is this guy to give me orders?_ His whole body read, muttered all around him so many times Taeil couldn’t try to ignore the message, overwhelming his senses. But just when it was about to become unbearable, Johnny erased the thought from his appearance, accepting his fate and walking towards the alley the rest of them had taken without another word. Taeil followed suit.

Who was Taeil to give him orders? He would have liked to know as much.

They might have been a little late to the party, but the citizens hadn’t been hard to find in the slightest – in a city this perpetually quiet, any conversation was loud. Eight conversations at once in the same space? Quite easy to track down, even from afar in a maze of beige coloured brick walls.

Quick head count – seventeen. Eighteen would have been much more convenient, Taeil not particularly fond of the idea to let someone behind, but he could always go pick Ten back up in a hurry later if the man couldn’t find the exit by himself. Although he would, definitely. Taeil trusted his senses; there had always been a special something to Ten. Shame they had had to find out what at the last possible minute.

To be honest, there was something special in each and everyone of the citizens, Taeil thought as they reached the river. Those who had been there too long, those who belonged, those who didn’t feel they belonged, and those who were never meant to be here. All these people had their own uniqueness, their own stories seen through different lenses, and Taeil would have loved to know each and everyone of them, had the circumstances fallen a little differently.

His life in the shadow hadn’t been the easiest. Always knowing which move would lead into which direction, and acting accordingly to support everyone’s best interests. It had kept him apart from the people, cursed by the never ending wheel of choices he was presented at any moment. But now that they were marching together, now that they were running away from the place that had messed up each and everyone of them in different ways, he didn’t have to stay in the dark. Now were his last chances to do what he had never been able to do; listen and talk.

Walking up to the front of the line, he could hear small tidbits of conversations between the citizens as they walked alongside the river behind him. Some more mundane, like a whining Donghyuck to Mark, “I can’t believe I took all this time to remake your entire house and we only got to use it once!”, followed by a laugh, dripping in fondness. Some a little heavier, too.

“Did you know that he’d leave?” Taeyong asked from behind him, the question directed to the man walking by his side.

Taeil was reminded of an evening, in City Hall. An adjourned Council meeting, Taeil taking his sweet time to leave, his eyes settling on Taeyong turning around in his chair, also about to leave. _Make him wait a couple more minutes,_ instincts whispered. _Remind him how alone he is. Remind him how much he wants a friend_.

“I didn’t, no,” Kun answered with a small sigh, tone raised. As if he already knew the question that would follow, mentally preparing for an explanation he could give him without hurting his friend’s feelings. A landmine field of emotions; that’s what each of them were stepping into, reaching for the exit. For the end.

“Did you know we would end up here?” Taeyong continued, his tone softening. Every question he would ask would lead him towards answers, inevitably. Some of those, he might not have ever wanted to know in the first place.

Kun stayed silent for a while, his lack of words louder than anything he could have said. “I did, yes.”

Taeil had been a little too late, if he were honest. Hansol had asked him to find Taeyong someone to help cope with his disappearance, but Taeil’s world had been twisted upside down so quickly by the same event, he had forgotten his main purpose for an instant. And before he knew it, an instant stretched into weeks, then months. In a way, he had failed both Hansol and Taeyong, on this one. He should have gotten him a friend sooner; maybe then, all this suspicion on his side – double-checking to be sure he wasn’t being pranked, he wasn’t being pitied, he truly had a friend – would have been spared.

Or perhaps he would have been just as vibrant with anger, and no one would have been able to help, no matter how kind they could have been. They would never know. “How come you would know one, and not the other?” Taeyong kept going, giving Kun all the opportunities he could to prove they were on the same side.

Taeil threw a glance behind his back. Kun was looking down as they walked, while Taeyong’s eyes were fixed on his friend, expectant, a hopefulness mixed in melancholy. “I only see what I’m asked to see,” Kun spoke up, kicking a rock on his path. It reached the water, the splash sound it produced drowned by his words. “Hansol never asked to know how he would go about leaving, so I couldn’t tell. I would have done something, had I known. He was my friend too,” he reminded, finally looking up to Taeyong.

Taeil whisked his gaze away; he didn’t want to intrude on their moment, no matter how much of it he was already listening to. “Yukhei asked, though,” he heard Kun continue. “He asked about himself, his future, and so I saw this moment. The end,” he paused, taking a deep breath, his intentions all laid out in the open for Taeil to read. _To tell the truth, or to keep the last part to himself?_ They said. “But I saw more than I was asked to, I suppose, because I could see you there. With me,” Kun opted on telling, a smile at the memory audible in his voice. “That’s how I knew I had to find you.”

Taeyong, however, wasn’t as pleased. “So… it was never really spontaneous, this friendship,” he deadpanned, small bits of faith leaving him with each exhale.

“Maybe not.” The accusation didn’t seem to phase Kun, the smile in his voice never leaving its place. He had something else up his sleeve; never underestimate the magic Kun possessed. “Or maybe… I was waiting for the right excuse.”

Taeil looked back to see Kun linking his pinkie to Taeyong’s, a blush creeping up the latter’s face. In the end, he had failed neither Hansol nor Taeyong. He had been a little late to deliver the final product, but Taeil was a man of his word. There was someone for Taeyong, and they had found each other at the right time.

He had been so engrossed in their little exchange – anything about Hansol, he was unable to tear himself away from – he hadn’t even noticed Renjun sneaking up to him, tapping him lightly on the shoulder. The boy was sure great at moving around without a sound; he had years of practice through his veins.

“Can I ask you something?” Renjun asked in a frail voice, his wide eyes betraying the hint of fear he had been carrying since the morning. Taeil would have hugged him, had they talked to each other more than once during their entire stay.

“Of course. Anything you need,” Taeil settled with. If he couldn’t offer kindness to the level he wanted, he’d have to start softer. Bring comfort within his words rather than actions.

Renjun looked down, fiddling with his fingers. The gesture made Taeil notice Renjun had bit his nails up to the skin, damaged and unnatural. The kid must have been feeling more anxious than Taeil had thought. “What… what are you, Taeil?” Renjun muttered, the words ringing inside his mind clear as day. (Well, not _this_ day; the sky had gotten even more covered since they had joined the river.)

Taeil had wondered the same thing, too. While patting Jisung’s hair after a nightmare. Walking on top of the Neo City Grand Mall’s rooftop alone. Or accompanied. Then alone again. He had had plenty of time to wonder, yet he had found no definite answer to that question. But he did have one idea. “I like to think I’m a failsafe,” Taeil confided, a small smile at the corner of his lips. “In case things go wrong, and Neo loses control of itself, there will always be someone on the inside to figure things out. Call the shots when there’s a problem,” he detailed, as thorough as he could, although lacking. If only there had come an instruction manual with his arrival, he could have understood better.

“Sort of a ground control,” Renjun let out, pensive. Taeil nodded, the description scarily accurate; that boy was much smarter than he had previously thought, to synthesize Taeil’s greatest mystery in two simple words. “Can you answer me this, then?” He added, and Taeil already knew what Renjun wanted to ask before he could open his mouth again. Taeil should have seen it coming much earlier. “Why… why did I start getting my memories back?”

There it was again: the fear in his eyes, stronger this time. It had been eating at him, it was evident now. How come Renjun hadn’t told a friend? What had stopped him from seeking help? “I thought they were gone,” Renjun mumbled. “Then, I had snippets come to mind. And when I picked up drawing again…”

The boy’s voice faded, exhausted from remembering, waiting for Taeil to explain. Hopefully, the older did have some sort of theory. If it were true or not wouldn’t matter, as long as Renjun could find the peace of mind he needed. “When you found the exit the first time, did you interact with it?” He asked the younger, hoping to be right.

“Hard not to,” the younger boy replied, shrugging. Although it had been the answer he needed, Taeil frowned at his way of putting it, wondering what piece of information he was missing. “You’ll see what I mean when we get there. But yeah, I touched it,” Renjun clarified with a nod. Taeil was growing curious to see that exit now. But first, he had to tie all loose ends.

“My guess is, Neo thought you left, when you touched that thing,” Taeil suggested. He were lucky Neo was so strange, or else his theory would have seemed rather farfetched. “It erased you from its data and stopped caring for you. Keeping your memories away was pointless, since you weren’t there anyway. And when your brain was stimulated into remembering, no one could stop you from opening that door,” he explained, the boy’s eyes widening as Taeil spoke.

Renjun was about to say something more, but when Jaehyun called out Doyoung’s name from behind, his expression turned cold. Tense, gritting his teeth, rolling his eyes at the mere sound. Taeil was aware of the rivalry between the two, but he had never thought it affected the kid to this extent.

“We’re close,” Renjun snapped, looking directly in front of him. They had reached the edge of the forest, the clouds darkening every minute, a perfect reflection of the younger’s mood.

There would be no point in trying to talk to this closed-off version of Renjun anymore, Taeil thought. Or even stay by his side in silence; if he knew one thing about teenagers, it was they’d rather be left alone for eternity than have one adult sneak up in their business once. “I’ll go check if everyone’s ready,” Taeil bid him goodbye, slowing down his pace, letting the others pass in front of him.

He reached the end of the line in no time, another quick head count as he travelled to the back. Seventeen again. As good as it could get. Johnny still looked pissed, in front of him at the back of the group, arms crossed over his chest, rolling his eyes at the antics of the two people bickering loudly in front of him. Loud enough Taeil had been able to hear even when he had been the furthest possible from them.

“Doyoungie. Dodo. Do, are you going to keep ignoring me forever?” Jaehyun whined, or stepped in front of said man, or rested his head on his shoulder as they were walking, or whisper-screamed into his ears, all four in a sequence of Doyoung’s name being repeated countless times. In short, the best way to annoy any living soul. “Hey, Doyoung. Let’s get married.”

That was the last straw for Doyoung, whose eyes grew exponentially, his mouth opening in shock as he swatted away Jaehyun’s arm from his back hard enough for him to wince. “Are you insane?” Doyoung yelled, gaining the attention of a few curious citizens along the way. “After you almost decked Renjun out of this world? Not a single chance.”

So the children had won. Good for them; Taeil felt no pity towards Jaehyun. Had the guy attempted his little stunt on Jisung, Taeil would not have hesitated to dislocate his jaw. “Okay, I’ll admit, I was a bit erratic, and I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just… you know how long I’ve waited for this,” Jaehyun justified, both Doyoung and him rolling their eyes while Johnny quickened his pace, walking away from his bullshit. “Seriously,” his tone deepened, placing his hand on Doyoung’s shoulder, who pushed it away. “I know I did wrong. I got caught up in my emotions, and it wasn’t right of me to let it take over. I hope you can forgive me.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologising to,” Doyoung snarled, bitter and cutting. Then, he scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes squinted shut. “Marriage. Have you lost your mind?”

Jaehyun scratched the back of his neck, a nervous laughter coming out of his mouth. “I didn’t mean now. I meant when we get to the other side,” he rectified, trying to ease off the shock Doyoung had experienced.

But Doyoung just scoffed. “Oh, because you think this is all going to be easy peasy over there?” He said, incredulous. Jaehyun frowned, feeling a bit out of the loop, causing his boyfriend to sigh. “Don’t you think this place would have one last surprise for all of us? The foreigners don’t come from the same location, or else they would have recognised each other. They don’t speak the same as us, or as each other. If we all came from different places, what’s to say we won’t end up apart, at the ends of the world?” Doyoung reasoned, proving their couple wasn’t as brainless as Taeil had imagined.

Taeil had imagined the same theory, too. This exit wasn’t an entry point; there was no entrance to Neo. You got in through the woods, by the dunes, across the gray area, swimming in the sea, but there was no door. No fixed point in space. What they were calling the exit couldn’t be a door, for it would ruin the intricate design Neo had perfectionned through the years. What they were walking towards had to be more of a portal than anything. And if they were dealing with an unstable concept such as this, they couldn’t assume they’d all end up together.

An intricately flawed design. It was a wonder Neo hadn’t fallen sooner. “Can’t hurt to dream,” Jaehyun smirked, ever so confident in himself. Taeil would never admit it, nor would he need to, but he was envious of his confidence. It was impressive, when used at full capacity. “So, you still haven’t answered,” he proved Taeil’s point, never giving up. “Yes, or…”

Doyoung huffed, a frown carving his face in anger. “If we do manage to find each other, and I haven’t met someone better than you by then, it would already be a miracle. The probabilities aren’t on your side, asshole,” he gritted, Jaehyun’s cockiness working on his nerves. Taeil wouldn’t be surprised to see smoke come out of his ears, at this point.

Jaehyun erupted in laughter, swinging an arm over his boyfriend’s shoulders, who didn’t push him away this time, but scrunched up his face in disgust anyway. “Don’t be a nerd, Do. We’ve been together since day one. I don’t think you’re going to give this all up so easily,” he teased, sultry voice whispering in his ear, a smile never leaving his lips as if he knew he had won, even though Doyoung’s expression was nothing but sour.

“If you manage to pull it off, considering the awful odds on your side… then yes, I agree to marry you,” Doyoung caved in, to Taeil’s surprise, crossing his arms over his chest and wriggling out of the younger’s grip. “But if you don’t apologise to Renjun right now, you can forget it.”

So he had said yes. Wasn’t Doyoung obsessed with keeping his public image as pure as possible? Why marry the absolute assholish person around? Taeil did not understand them in the slightest. Birds of a feather, he supposed. “Consider it done,” Jaehyun promised before giving a quick peck on Doyoung’s temple, pulling back with a devilish smirk on his face. “I’m going to make you regret agreeing, you know?”

Doyoung rolled his eyes yet again, unphased by the threat. “Trust me, I already do.”

They were a weird couple, their dynamic hard to follow for the average onlooker. But of all the citizens’ relationships, Taeil could bet they’d be the ones to stay the longest together. Out of love or out of spite was a different question. One Taeil didn’t want to figure out.

They had been well into the forest for a while now when the group’s pace slowed down, conversations dying into whispers until all they could hear was the sound of the wind, weak and fragile, as if it too would die down with Neo. Taeil would have suspected the wind to follow along the clouds’ tendencies and rebel out, but he should have figured the wind would always remain on their side.

“This is it,” Renjun announced, pointing somewhere Taeil couldn’t quite see from his position. Without even having to consult each other, the citizens moved around in a half-circle, making sure everyone had enough space to see, all standing at equal distance from the mystery finally catching his eye.

Now that Taeil was seeing said exit, he understood what Renjun had meant by ‘hard not to touch’. Holographic waves rippling out, floating in the air like a curtain shifting along the wind, Taeil’s hands were itching to reach out and grab whatever fabric it were made of. If it could be considered fabric in the first place; he had never seen anything like it, in or out of Neo. An iridescent glitch standing out in the middle of the forest, waiting to trap the citizens in.

As he watched the colours move in waves of depth, the same old fear grumbled in his stomach, travelling down his spine. What if they lost their memories? Not that he would miss them much, apart from Jisung. More like, what if they forgot each other? Most of them were in love. What if, say, Jaemin forgot Jeno, after all they had been through? Or worse, what if they knew crossing the threshold meant forgetting each other? Would they still be capable of leaving, when left behind were not only Neo, but all their cherished moments together?

“It should be safe of use,” Taeil spoke up, keeping his thoughts under wraps. They couldn’t know, and anyways, it was just a fear, irrational. He had proof someone had come through it and remembered. But that guy had always been a lucky one; they might not all be granted the same privilege. “Hansol went through just fine.” They didn’t need to know. They’d remember. They couldn’t know.

“How do you know it’s safe? What if it kills us?” Yukhei asked, directed at Taeil, but his eyes wouldn’t leave Jungwoo, standing across him in the semi circle they had formed. Jungwoo’s eyes wouldn’t leave Yukhei either, from the looks of it, caught up in a high tension staring contest they both refused to lose.

 _You are the reason I know_ , Taeil almost said, wanting to test out if the boy would even react to such a statement or ignore it in favour of the boy he couldn’t keep his eyes off of. “Trust me, Yukhei. You’re not dying today.” Some other unfortunate consequences they weren’t aware of _could_ happen instead, but death wouldn’t meet any of them today.

Well, if they acted fast enough. “Should we make Yuta and Sicheng go first?” Mark suggested, voice laying his intentions clear into the darkening forest: he wasn’t ready to witness someone else die under his care. The faster Yuta would reach safety, the calmer he would be.

Taeil looked around, searching for Sicheng. The boy had taken a step behind, sitting down on the grass away from them with Yuta’s head on his lap, leaning his back on the trunk of a tree. He was stroking the unconscious man’ cheeks with the tip of his fingers, so delicately, as if he were afraid Yuta would break under his touch. But what caught Taeil’s attention the most was the immeasurable sadness in Sicheng’s eyes, big enough to engulf all of Neo in a blink.

“No,” Taeil chided. They couldn’t leave first, even if all logical arrows pointed towards them; he had to clear some things up with Sicheng, for both their sakes, and knowing these two’s history, the boy would need a lot more time to let Yuta go than others might. He wouldn’t put Sicheng through it now. “Let them say their goodbyes first.”

With his decision came the trickier part; who would volunteer to step forward into the great unknown, if not the ones who needed it most? Taeil couldn’t go yet. He had to make sure everyone would follow along, and he could only trust himself to complete the departure. It was his mission, his purpose, and he had to see it through the end. But someone still had to take the first step, if they ever wanted to find the last.

“We can go,” Kun spoke up from where he was standing, Taeyong turning to look at him with questioning eyes. Kun noticed his friend’s surprised expression, and the hint of a smile on grew on his face. “You’ve waited long enough for this. And I know we go first anyway, so…” he trailed off, stepping towards the holographic curtain, Taeyong in tow. The latter shook his head, a fond laugh escaping his lips. _Should have figured_ , it said.

They stood in front of the exit, Taeyong staring at its ever changing colours in apprehension, Kun at the gray sky with a hand raised up. A sudden dawn of realisation flashed across Kun’s face as he let down his hand, wiping a finger over his shirt.

“It’s starting to rain,” Kun told Taeyong, their pinkies still linked, smiles on both their faces. Through his words, Taeil was granted access to their connection: Taeyong was happy to leave with Kun by his side, and Kun was happy Taeyong was doing well. They didn’t need to say anything; they had said all they needed to say, and they were ready to jump into the unknown.

“Taeyong!” A voice shouted from the bystanders. It was Jeno, waving at his brother with a smile. Taeyong waved back, his eyes sparkling at the boy. From admiration or tears, Taeil left him the benefit of the doubt.

Giving the citizens one last glance, Kun turned his head towards Taeyong, nodding as a question. Taeyong nodded back, and it was enough of an answer for Kun to step forward, his foot making the waves ripple out, the movement electric. Never letting go of Taeyong’s pinkie, he stepped inside and disappeared, Taeyong following without hesitation.

Just like that. Two gone, sixteen to go.

A flash of light in the sky took the citizens by surprise, the already tense atmosphere growing heavier as thunder stroke not so far from their position, Chenle covering his ears at the loud sound. Neo was getting angry. Now that they had set their plan in motion, they did not have a second to waste. Everyone had to leave, and quick.

“We should go too,” Jeno suggested to Jaemin, as if he had read Taeil’s mind. The two boys hadn’t let go of each other’s hands since they had all left City Center. “I don’t want you in this place any longer than we need to,” he justified, tugging the boy closer to him.

“Okay,” Jaemin agreed, letting the other bring them both forward, closer to the curtain until they were standing right next to it, the colours reflected on their faces. One more step, and they’d be gone too.

“Wait,” Jeno said, letting go of the younger boy’s hands, making the boy frown at the sudden change. At the sight of confusion on Jaemin’s face, Jeno let out a small smirk, enough for Taeil to guess where this was going. “There’s one last thing I need to do.”

And in one swift motion, Jeno cupped Jaemin’s cheeks between his hands and brought their lips together. Jaemin’s eyes widened in surprise, but he kissed him back nonetheless, letting his hands rest over Jeno’s arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world, melting into each other without a care for those around them.

But the illusion didn’t last for long, Jaemin coming back to his senses and breaking the kiss, guilt rising up at the sight of his pouting boyfriend. “Jenooo,” he whined, his cheeks heating up at an impressive rate, unable to contain his smile. Judging by his reaction, this had been the couple’s first kiss, and he might not have wanted the entire Neo City population to have front row seats to the private event. Jaemin seemed to have enjoyed it regardless. Ah, young love. “There’s people here.”

“I don’t care about anyone else,” Jeno retorted, everyone around smelling his incoming cheesy one-liner from miles away, a groan heard from where Donghyuck must have been standing. His forehead pressed to Jaemin’s, he chuckled at the sound, his eyes turning to crescents. “I only have eyes for you.”

“Argh! You’re disgusting, Lee Jeno!” Donghyuck immediately shrieked, waving his hands in the air and fake retching onto Mark’s shoes, who wolf-whistled at their public display of affection. Jeno looked their way, pulling out his tongue at them and planting another kiss on Jaemin’s lips, the latter’s eyes fluttering shut at the touch.

This time, it was Jeno’s turn to let go. “Plus, it’s kind of our brand, isn’t it?” He winked, Jaemin’s laughter a source of pure light under the dark clouds. They were cute together, it was undeniable. Taeil hoped they wouldn’t forget each other; if anyone deserved to remember, it was them. “Now we can go in peace.”

Jaemin looked at him with nothing but the purest form of love in his eyes and nodded with a smile, taking Jeno’s hand in his once again before they both stepped out of Neo, together since the very beginning, together until the very end.

Four gone. Fourteen to go.

It hadn’t been too hard, having them volunteer to leave everything and everyone they ever knew. Taeil had worried over nothing; the citizens were aware of what they had to do for everyone’s benefit, and all Taeil had done was doubt their will to protect each other. But it seemed almost too easy, in a sense. He couldn’t let down his guard for a second; especially not when the sky was turning close to black, the pace of raindrops hitting their skin quickening, with more than two thirds of the population still inside the city’s grasp.

The two boys’ departure generated another lightning strike, closely followed by a second one, thunder rumbling in the distance. With each disturbance of the equilibrium Neo had created with its required number of people, the city grew more aware of exactly what the citizens were doing, and it wasn’t happy about it. The more people would leave, the faster they’d have to act, or else they’d be stuck in a cacophony of sound and light, swallowed by darkness.

Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention, thinking another volunteer had stepped forward to continue the process, but when he recognised the figure moving behind him as Yukhei, Taeil knew he had gotten his hopes up for nothing. There was no way the boy was leaving before setting the record straight with Jungwoo; fortunately for everyone, Yukhei was heading in the other’s direction, determined.

“Hey, can we talk?” He asked Jungwoo, his body language strong and confident, his voice the complete opposite, nervous and unassuming. At least he knew he was in the wrong.

“I was hoping you’d ask,” Jungwoo replied, the expression on his face proving Yukhei had had nothing to worry about in the first place.

Yukhei bit down his lip, trying to hide to smile threatening to come out. Now wasn’t the time for celebration. “Let’s go somewhere more private,” he suggested, stepping back a little, inviting the other to join him. Jungwoo followed, the pair retreating further into the forest, away from prying ears.

Good for them. It wasn’t like the citizens needed to hear Yukhei’s drawn out apology in detail anyway. _I’ve been a stupid asshole dumbass and I deserve nothing good ever happening to me again_ , he would say. _You definitely were, and it hurt me, but now that you’ve come back to your senses, let’s make out like it’s the end of the world_ , Jungwoo would reply. Or something along those lines.

Someone still had to step forward, though. They couldn’t stop the leaving process because of one distraction in the pattern. Around him, no one made a move to be next; a little further, no movements from anyone either, apart from Chenle bringing his hands over his ears everytime lightning came into view, readying himself for the thunderstrike to follow.

Jisung removed a hand from over the boy’s ear, leaning in closer. “Chenle. Are you okay?” he said under his breath, having taken quick note of his friend’s visible discomfort, but not wanting to alert anyone else of the situation in case he were reading too much into it. What a considerate young lad, Taeil thought. Then again, when it came to Jisung, he had to admit he was a bit biased.

“Yeah,” Chenle nodded, shrugging it off. He had always had that tendency to pretend everything was fine, especially when it wasn’t. But his voice always betrayed his true feelings; nothing could get past Taeil. Well, almost. “It’s just a little loud,” he acknowledged, letting his other hand fall from his ear. Thunder terrified Chenle, always had. Enough to trigger a series of nightmares, one stormy night huddled in City Hall.

Jisung stared at his friend, pensive. “Maybe it’s a sign that it’s our turn,” he concluded, looking around to see if anyone wanted to step up before them. When he figured no one seemed willing to be next, his eyes flew back at Chenle, putting a hand over the boy’s shoulder. “Go over there, I’ll join you in a sec,” he instructed, intriguing Taeil. What could the youngest have to do, in such a critical moment for all of them?

Taeil was even more surprised when Jisung walked up to him and threw his arms around the older’s neck, giving Taeil the tightest hug he had ever received. _Oh_ , he let out in a breath as his arms found their way around Jisung’s back, closing his eyes to savour the moment. Oh, how he had wondered endless days and nights if Jisung would ever come back to him. Taeil could feel himself tear up. Or maybe there were raindrops in his eyes.

“Promise me you’ll leave, too,” Jisung whispered into his ear, one last secret shared between them only. “Promise me you won’t stay behind. I’m not letting your hero complex get in the way. You have to promise me. It’s my only wish,” he kept going, the only person who had ever truly known him inside and out.

Taeil chuckled. It did seem like something he could do - sacrifice himself, for all of them to make it home. Had it come down to it, he wouldn’t have hesitated. “You grew up too fast, kid,” he murmured back. But he wouldn’t need to make that sacrifice, if things kept going smoothly. And he wouldn’t be able to, anyway, Jisung the only person knowing how to checkmate his purpose: others’ wishes had to come before his own, always. “I promise you. Six years in this place was more than enough,” Taeil gave his word, tightening his hold on the taller boy before letting him go, bittersweet smiles on both their faces.

Jisung joined back his friend, waiting for him close by the curtain, curiosity on his face from witnessing the unusual interaction, fading away when Jisung’s hand grabbed his own, ready to take their next step together. “You okay?” Jisung asked, turning his head towards the exit.

Chenle answered with a smile. Genuine, one Taeil hadn’t seen on his face in a long time. Finally, he was okay. “I’m safe,” Chenle replied, “thanks to you.”

Six gone. Twelve to go.

The trees worked as shelter against the heavy rain pouring down on them, but it was far from enough, the earth around them getting muddy, Taeil’s hair sticking to his forehead. Thunder struck a few more times, the light it emitted a stark contrast from the charcoal clouds covering Neo. Even the wind had started picking up, goosebumps rising on Taeil’s skin. Things were getting worse.

“All our friends are gone,” Donghyuck remarked, a half-hearted complaint, some sadness leaking from his words. Mark’s arm around his shoulder brought him closer, resting his head over Donghyuck’s in comfort.

“How about we join them, then?” Mark suggested, taking a look around the remaining citizens. His eyes settled on one of them, a distraught expression taking place over his features. “Oh, Renjun,” he muttered, his feet striding towards the aforementioned boy without a thought, prompting Taeil to look in his direction as well.

It wasn’t the rain, this time; Renjun was indeed crying, all by himself away from the thinning crowd. There was no telling when he had started, no one having noticed the state he was in until Mark pointed it out. Guilt nested in Taeil’s stomach, feeling a strong sense of responsibility towards the boy since the events of the morning. How could he not have paid attention? Of course the younger would be all over the place; he had the strongest attachment to Neo out of them all.

Mark must have held himself to the same standard of responsibility towards his younger friends, for he wrapped the boy in a tight hug as if it were second nature to him. Even after all the time he had had to spend away from his friends, slaving away all hours of the day, he would always remain their big brother. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay,” Mark patted Renjun’s soaked hair, other hand trailing up and down his back. Donghyuck soon joined the two, squeezing his friend’s shoulder.

Sensing Renjun was uncomfortable with the sudden attention, Mark pulled back, hoping to have eased off the boy’s worries, if only a little. (Mark had always been easy to read, even with his mouth closed.) “Hey. I’m sorry for yesterday, for leaving you hanging,” he apologised, Renjun avoiding the other’s eyes. “That wasn’t cool of me. I should have stayed and listened to what you had to say.”

Renjun shrugged, putting on a smile that wouldn’t reach his eyes. “It’s fine. We would have ended up here anyway,” he reasoned, his intentions clear to Taeil: he was pushing Mark’s attempts away, too miserable to even pretend the gesture, symbolic or heartfelt, had brought him any comfort.

“Junnie,” Donghyuck chimed in, tugging at the boy’s sleeves, his eyes wide, pouting. He too was feeling melancholic; he didn’t want to leave his best friend behind, especially not in a state like this. The affectionate name dripped in longing, reminders of a time when Renjun had appeared lost, and Donghyuck helped him find his way. “Come with us.”

But even Donghyuck, one of the most positive things about Neo, couldn’t make him change his mind. “You guys go ahead. I want to stay a little longer,” he declined, growing out his smile, eyes absent from the sparkle they held when he were truly happy.

Donghyuck pulled him into a hug one last time, an unspoken goodbye between the two adventurers, before leaving the boy be. Joining back Mark, they walked alongside each other towards the exit, towards the hope for better days.

“Mark,” he called out, said boy’s eyes having never left him in the first place. Donghyuck took a deep breath, hesitation on his face, but bright-eyed as ever, his anticipation triumphing over fear. “Will you keep searching for me?”

It didn’t take half a second for Mark to nod, breaking into the biggest grin Taeil had ever seen on his face. His fingers trailed down Donghyuck’s exposed forearms like they were raindrops on his skin, almost teasing, before locking their fingers together and bringing the younger’s hand to his lips, kissing Donghyuck’s knuckles under the rain. “Couldn’t stop even if I tried.”

All these kids pulling out moves greater than any rom-com he had ever seen were starting to make Taeil feel inadequate, if he were honest, but as he watched the pair hop into the holographic curtain, pattern rippling out in waves, he knew he would miss these two, as well as those who had come before, and those who would come after.

Eight gone. Ten to go.

From afar, slithering between the trees, Taeil could notice a gray cloud coming their way. He turned around, only to find it staring back at him from all angles; the citizens were now being indulged in fog, in hopes they would get lost in the forest and never find their way back to the exit. It didn’t seem too thick, as of now, but with all Neo had already tried, Taeil could be sure it would render them blind to their surroundings, if they weren’t fast enough.

Renjun was still crying, if not harder than before, with the departure of all his cherished friends. Taeil hadn’t thought it through, when he asked him for the exit in front of everybody. He could have done it in private where no one would have ever known, but his loud mouth were now cause of despair for the younger boy, exposed to feelings of betrayal from Taeyong, threats from Jaehyun, people he had known all his life now looking at him as if he had grown two heads. Taeil couldn’t leave him like that, all shattered. He had to help him out; he had put him in this mess, and he’d make things right.

Careful not to startle him, Taeil shuffled closer to the boy. “Why don’t you go, Renjun? You’ve done good work. You deserve to go,” he encouraged, a hesitant hand patting his back – the possibility Renjun would snap his hand away was relatively high, especially considering the two were strangers to each other.

But if anything, Renjun couldn’t feel the slight pressure over his back, either because of the rain weighing down his clothes, or the numbness that consumed him. “I can’t. This is all I have,” he sniffed, his teary eyes taking in every single detail of the forest surrounding them. “There’s nothing good waiting for me on the other side. I know it.”

If this were any other citizen, Taeil would have shut down these negative thoughts in an instant, speculations of something they had no knowledge or remembrance of. Renjun, however, wasn’t any other citizen; his memories had become his own again, and if he believed the other side to be a life he didn’t want to go back to, there was nothing Taeil could say or do.

Renjun covered his eyes with his hand, wiping away the tears that kept falling and mixing in with the rain, each time a drop hit his skin a reminder of how they got here in the first place. “This is all I have, and every single day I’ve had to see it destroyed,” he croaked, and Taeil could feel the boy’s heart shatter between the lines of his haunting words. “I can’t let anything happen to it anymore. I can’t leave it behind,” he added, shaking his head.

Taeil’s eyes trailed off – he couldn’t bear hearing how heartbroken Renjun felt – and settled on a furious Doyoung, throwing daggers at the man by his side pretending not to see what was happening. Having had enough of his behaviour, Doyoung pushed Jaehyun forward, earning a glare from his short-tempered boyfriend. “You better make this real proper, Jung,” Doyoung spat, no amusement whatsoever in his words. At least it was nice to know Renjun had more people backing him up then he were aware of. Even Johnny was moving closer, in case all hell broke loose. There was no way they were letting Jaehyun touch Renjun; there was no way for Jaehyun to come out of this victorious.

Heaving out a sigh, Jaehyun stepped in their direction, reluctant. The younger boy’s eyes widened when he realised the man was approaching him in particular, and Taeil put his hand over his shoulder, both to put him at ease and prevent him from running away; the two arch enemies had to have this conversation before they left, or Renjun might never recover.

Jaehyun stood at a reasonable distance, behind him Doyoung with his arms crossed over his chest and Johnny standing on the other side of Renjun, almost mirroring Taeil’s position. Jaehyun must have felt somewhat intimidated, if the gulp of air he took in before speaking was anything to go by. “Look, Renjun—”

“Fuck you,” the boy interjected before Jaehyun could even try to make his point, hands balling into fists the way Jaehyun’s had been earlier in the morning, ready to defend himself – or strike first if necessary. Renjun had had more than enough of the older’s antics.

Jaehyun raised his hands up in surrender, laying his intentions out in the open for the younger to understand. “I didn’t mean to make this hard on you. I swear.”

“But you did anyway!” Renjun cried out, lightning striking at the same time, menacing shadows appearing on his tear-stained cheeks. “You knew it hurt me, and you kept going! Again and again and again! I was ready to kill myself if it meant you would stop,” his voice faltered, covering it up with a cough. But Taeil hadn’t missed a thing. “You saw all that. And yet, you kept going,” he accused the older, rightfully so.

Wow. It had been so much harder on him than Taeil had thought. And to think Renjun would still prefer to be in Neo, living through this again and again, rather than the outside world. “I’m sorry, Renjun,” Jaehyun started, running a hand through his hair. It felt strange for Taeil to hear, but genuine guilt tinted his speech, for the first time since his arrival in Neo. A little too late and definitely last minute, but better than never. “I knew it hurt you, and I kept going. I’m a selfish asshole and I don’t take others’ feelings into consideration, when I should. I only think of what’s best for me and refuse to make compromises. I did wrong. I’m sorry.”

The younger’s frown hadn’t softened in the slightest. Jaehyun sighed, taking a step forward; Taeil could feel Renjun’s shoulder muscles under his hand tense up at the movement, and the glare both Taeil and Johnny sent Jaehyun made him take an immediate step back. “I know you won’t forgive me, and you have no reason to. Even if it wasn’t my intention, I hurt you with my actions. And I’m sorry,” he continued, his expression morphing into one of concern as Renjun wiped his tears again, an action as pointless as Jaehyun’s apology. “But you have to go, Renjun. You can’t stay here.”

Presented with the exit, on a day where he had been granted the choice all by himself, Renjun had chosen to stay. Today, the choice ripped away from him, having to listen to his worst enemy, there was no way for Renjun to agree and hop into the exit as if nothing had ever happened. Jaehyun was a fool for thinking that way, but then again, Jaehyun was a fool about a lot of things, in and out of his control.

Renjun’s arm moved, prompting Taeil to remove his hand from over his shoulder. The boy reached through his pocket and he took out a bright red lighter, tossing the object Jaehyun’s way. The man caught it, brows furrowed in surprise. It almost seemed to be a peace offering of some sort, until Renjun spoke up again, proving them dead wrong.

“You don’t know what it’s like, to lose everything you’ve ever known piece by piece, bit by bit,” he said, his jaw clenched, staring into Jaehyun’s eyes, making sure the man would never be able to forget his words, to forget the hurt he had caused, to forget the boy from the forest who would have given all he had to protect his own, even when all he had was nothing.

A real fighter, that kid.

Thunder struck again, the light diffused by the fog around them creating halos around their silhouettes for a short instant. Jaehyun, previously left speechless, was about to say something more when Doyoung walked up to him, grabbing his wrist. “Let him be, Jaehyun. You’ve done enough,” he tugged on his arm, Jaehyun backing away with shame in his eyes for Taeil only to read. True regret had caught up to him, making him wish he had done this much sooner. No could do, now. “Let’s get going, okay?”

Renjun had stopped crying, but it remained evident on his face all the hurt this whole ordeal had caused him. Getting closer to the holographic curtain, Jaehyun turned around, extending his hand towards the younger boy. One last attempt at redemption, perhaps, but also an opportunity for Renjun to let go as well. Doyoung was looking at his boyfriend with wild eyes, but there was a new fondness to them as he watched Jaehyun taking all those extra steps towards bettering himself.

Renjun threw an insecure glance Taeil’s way, the older giving him a supportive smile, before he stepped forward, grabbing Doyoung’s hand instead of the one held out for him. _Good enough_ , Jaehyun’s face read as he cracked a smile smile at the younger, and the trio stepped into the exit, leaving Neo for good.

Eleven gone. Seven to go.

More than half the citizens had left, now. Neo could thicken the fog surrounding them all it wanted, it had already lost. It had lost the second Taeil met Jisung, in a way. The rest was ripples of a butterfly effect so great it made the city glitch, letting in literal butterflies at its most unstable moments. Neo had lost when it tried to make its citizens. People made a city, the city didn’t make its people. That fundamental truth was the reason Neo was crumbling, six years later.

“Johnny,” Taeil called. Jungwoo and Yukhei hadn’t come back from their talk yet, and Sicheng and Yuta were the definite lasts, Taeil’s orders; it was their leader’s turn to go now, whether he wanted to or not. And Johnny didn’t seem to like the idea in the slightest, frowning at Taeil, soaked hair falling over his forehead obstructing his glare.

“No. I’m not leaving without him. I don’t care if he never forgives me, I won’t leave him behind,” Johnny stood his ground, refusing to move an inch. “You said he’d find his way, but I don’t see him anywhere. I don’t know where he is at all,” he admitted, the oddity in his statement resounding louder than any other word he had spoked.

“You can’t tell where he is?” Taeil frowned, soon replaced by a sly smile creeping up the corners of his lips. Seemed like Ten had done exactly what he needed to do, after all. Taeil had been right to trust him. “Neo must be leaving you.”

Johnny pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out an exasperated sigh. Taeil seemed to have that effect on people. “What are you even saying, Taeil?” He groaned, worn down by the events of the day. Tough guy hadn’t had it easy either, if his puffy eyes were anything to go by. “Why do you always have to talk like that?” He muttered, more to himself than Taeil.

“I’m saying Ten was right not to trust you,” Taeil elaborated, raising an eyebrow at the taller. “See, Neo chooses who it lets in. Can’t have anyone disrupting the peace. These words sound familiar to you?” By the look on Johnny’s face, Taeil could tell he had hit bullseye.

Taeil knew the exact way Neo worked; of course he’d know the exact words this city would use to manipulate anyone to its liking. “Neo chose you first. Leader-like, friendly giant type of guy. The perfect vessel to move around the pawns into doing what was best in Neo’s interest,” he continued, knowing this time, he could share the knowledge he had held close to his heart with others, without fearing future repercussions – there was no future here, not anymore. And Johnny deserved to know; Taeil had carried enough secrets he had never shared. This one, he would let out. “But in exchange for the knowledge of everyone’s whereabouts, granting you instant privilege over anyone who would want to rise as leader, Neo could now take decisions for you. Influence you into influencing people.”

Johnny frowned, equal parts confused and deep in thought. This must have been a lot to take in; the illusion of control was a difficult one to let go of, and to find out he had never had it in the first place could be hard to swallow. He opened up his mouth to speak, no sound coming out, but when they did, he stumbled over his words. “I don’t— like, possessed?”

What had tipped him off something was strange about Johnny was the sudden hatred he held towards their latest newcomer. Yukhei had barely had time to breathe before Johnny stepped into defensive mode, finding ways to tame him down when he had done nothing wrong yet. To anyone else, it would have seemed to be a simple clash of personalities; but to Taeil, who knew Yukhei _hadn’t_ been chosen by Neo, Johnny’s stance meant something much deeper, something Johnny wasn’t even aware of. Because Johnny was a sweet, lovable guy, and even thought he had his flaws like everyone else, he wasn’t a bad guy.

These bad thoughts plaguing his mind belonged to someone else, something else. “Not necessarily. Just… not in control,” Taeil nuanced, the distinction important for Johnny to understand. “When Jaemin got sick, it was Neo’s doing. A punishment for letting Hansol leave. Jaemin was supposed to die. But because of your connection with Neo, you knew there was a way out. And Neo knew you knew. Why do you think Ten couldn’t ever leave your head, every time you thought of taking the right decision? Neo didn’t want you to save him. And you didn’t.”

Yes, Taeil knew he was dropping a lot on him, but the man wanted answers. Said man having been manipulated for years without his knowledge, and now Taeil had a mere few minutes to explain all of Neo’s mind fuckery. Of course it would seem like a massive information dump, but Taeil owed it to him to tell the absolute truth, even if he would have preferred to explain point by point. As if Neo would ever give them that. “But… he survived,” Johnny pointed out, his confusion reaching heights greater than ever.

Taeil nodded. “Yes. Why do you think I let Jisung go?” He disclosed, the question more rhetorical than anything – Johnny didn’t even know of the older’s connection to the youngest. All these revelations at once were not ideal, but he had to make it quick. “So he’d latch onto the next leader figure, someone who would give him the sense of security he had with me. So he’d make the decision when you couldn’t.”

Of all decisions Taeil had had to take, letting go of Jisung had been and would always remain the hardest. Not only did he adore the child to bits, but all the information his gut feeling had granted him on the decision was how this detachment would be beneficial not in the near, but far future. Thus Taeil was left in the dark for years, years of watching the boy hate him from afar, every day the prophecy remained unfulfilled making him want to run back and apologise to the youngest like never before. Fuck this magical gut feeling. Only when Jaemin fell sick could Taeil finally breathe, knowing he hadn’t done all this for nothing, but also knowing he would never get those wasted years back, Jisung’s admiration back.

Johnny looked at him with wide eyes, earlier confusion replaced by what could almost seem like worry. “How… Who are you, Taeil?” The taller shook his head, shaken up by his story.

Their conversation was cut short by movement coming from the forest. For a second, Taeil thought it was Yukhei and Jungwoo coming back from their little talk, but when a hatchet came into view, red handle shining through the fog and cutting the ferns out of the way in vigorous swings, he had to revise himself.

“Ten,” Johnny let out, almost breathless at the sight. He was as soaked as the rest of them, but it appeared a lot more odd when contrasted to the burn marks on his clothes. Tiny cuts were sprinkled all over his hands, as if he had put them in a pile of broken glass, and he was breathing heavily, fire in his eyes. Simple adrenaline rush, or vivid anger overtaking him? “What happened to you?”

Those were some serious serial killer vibes going on, but when Ten let go of the hatchet, Taeil let out a sigh of relief. It could have gotten awkward fast if the man that had worked this hard to get rid of the spirits inside Johnny’s head had gotten back possessed as well. “Johnny,” Ten growled, “we’re leaving. Now.”

Ten grabbed the taller man by the wrist, the faint glow of the curtain’s magnetic pull leading him through the fog towards the exit. There was so much Johnny wanted to say, words leaking through him for Taeil’s ears to be their only witness. “Ten, I—”

“I love you too, but let me be pissed,” Ten cut off, making a stop when they had reached the now dreaded curtain. Taeil could hear steps coming from behind him, but his eyes couldn’t tear themselves from the drama unfolding in front of him. “Now, please go in before I push you myself,” he ordered, paying Johnny’s pleading eyes no mind as he crossed his arms over his chest, revealing even more tiny cuts covering his forearms as well, blood washed out by the rain. Yet the marks would always remain.

Ten may have destroyed the computer in an attempt to free his lover from its influence, but what he had done meant so much more. Neo did have its strongest connection within Johnny, but all of those who had gotten through that door had been linked to this place as well. As Hansol had said it best, this place was clingy, interfering with the Not-Neo in order to bring them back even after they were long gone. He had sent Taeil proof of it, after all. But now that the system had been tampered with, it was safe to assume they would be free of its presence wherever they went. Free at last, all of them. In a way, Ten had taken down the city all by himself, not even aware of the impact it held. As long as his lover was okay.

A lot of things in Neo had happened for that same reason; for each other to be okay.

In a leap of faith, Johnny put his hand behind Ten’s neck, bringing the shorter man closer and pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. He let his lips linger for a while, but pulled away, looking into Ten’s eyes one last time before doing as he were told and leaving the premises, crossing to the other side of the curtain where they might never meet again. Ten let his face fall as the man left, but wasted no time in following him, disappearing as well.

Thirteen gone. Five to go.

“I still think you should have told me about the headaches,” a voice Taeil could recognise as Yukhei’s came from behind in the forest. Right, the steps he had heard earlier. It seemed Jungwoo and Yukhei were finally coming back, and if Taeil weren’t mistaken, better than ever. Taeil was glad, although they had sure missed out on a lot meanwhile.

“I couldn’t,” Jungwoo spoke up, closer than Taeil would have thought. Damn fog messing around with his perception of distance. “Had I told you, you wouldn’t have been your true self around me. You would have held yourself back. You wouldn’t have been the crazy stupid Yukhei I fell in love with.” At these words, the pair emerged from the fog, holding hands. The citizens sure loved to rub their love in Taeil’s face, so it seemed. “I don’t regret it.”

Yukhei’s eyes settled on Taeil, looking around the exit in search of other familiar faces only to find none of their friends. “Everyone left already?” He remarked, as if Taeil hadn’t been standing two feet away. Nice to know he was being appreciated, as Yukhei strided towards a large tree instead. “Sicheng. You’ll be okay?”

Oh. Sicheng. By the tree with Yuta. Taeil had been putting the moment off for a while, leaving it for later, but he’d have to deal with it, now that they would remain the last two standing, alone in the presence of each other. “Yeah. Don’t worry,” Sicheng muttered, forever an echo, tickling Taeil’s ears. “See you around, Yukhei.”

Yukhei waved, before getting back to Jungwoo, already waiting by the exit. He looked tenderly at the older boy, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. “In the end, it was you,” Yukhei murmured, letting a smile overtake him. Images of an antique dollar shop infiltrated Taeil’s mind through his words, an old memory unknown to his lover laced in the boy’s speech.

Jungwoo frowned, lips curling up as well. “What do you mean?” The boy tilted his head, amused at his boyfriend’s words, curious to know exactly what was going on inside his mind after spending so much time apart from each other. They had so much to catch up on.

Too bad time had never been on anyone’s side, here in Neo. “Nothing,” Yukhei said, letting his hand fall back to his side. Jungwoo took the opportunity to take it in his own, giggling at the touch, the happiness of getting back together making him giddy at the simple sight of Yukhei’s face so close to his own. “Just… fate.”

And so, together as promised, they took a step forward, limbs rippling the waves of the curtain, changing its colours as they entered the exit. The holographic pattern returned to its original state when the two lovebirds had finished travelling to the other side, away from all the insecurities that had plagued them in the unfairness of Neo.

Fifteen gone. Three to go.

All that were left were Sicheng and Yuta, one of which couldn’t speak, and the other caught in a dream he might never escape.

Sicheng had always been the hardest to read. It must have been the way his voice worked, different than everyone else’s, his words becoming part of the landscape when they echoed around. Taeil read people through their voices. He could always hear the whispers of the wind, but never the confines of Sicheng’s mind. As if the wind had stolen the boy’s voice to wear as its own, and help out the citizens at his expanse.

Although he knew of the hate Sicheng held against him, Taeil took his chances, getting closer to the boy and sitting down under the same tree, leaning his back against the trunk. At this point, his clothes were so drenched, it didn’t matter if he were sitting in a muddy puddle. The fog was getting thicker; maybe Sicheng hadn’t even noticed him approaching, busy brushing the wet fringe off Yuta’s forehead. Taeil’s purpose wasn’t to make small talk with him anyway. He just wanted to be close to someone, in a world where all those he once loved were gone.

But the world rarely worked in his favour, he had grown to learn. “I never had the chance to tell him I loved him, you know,” Sicheng spoke up from his side of the tree, letting Taeil know he had acknowledged his presence. Had the boy changed his mind about him? Last time they had exchanged a word, Sicheng was growling at him.

A scoff escaped Taeil’s lips before he could do process the action, thoughts slipping out out his mouth like a broken dam. “Oh, I wish you hadn’t said that,” he shook his head, appalled to hear Sicheng’s words, however they got out of him. ‘ _Never had the chance_ ’? Enough to make him go mad. “You had all the chances, Sicheng. I made sure of it.”

All this effort he had put in, and this was how it was received? “I tried to make you confess. I tried everything so you wouldn’t have regrets when the time came, but for some reason, you’ve never went through with any of them,” Taeil ranted, bewildered. Was the boy that oblivious? It couldn’t be Taeil’s fault. Yes, he did work in somewhat peculiar ways, but with the number of intricate plans he had concocted, there was no way Sicheng wasn’t aware already.

But if it happened to be the case, Taeil would have to lay his cards on the table in a way Sicheng would be unable to ignore. “I gave you Sun and Moon metaphors for each other when I suggested he be official Keeper. You literally fell for him on your first day; who put that rock there, you think? I tried telling you in dreams, making you jealous of someone else saving him so you would. I even pretended to hook up with him so you’d stop dancing around the subject and confess. I tried everything, and you never took the bait. Not once,” Taeil let out, sparing no detail. He was done letting his work stay unnoticed, when he had put all his soul into it. “Don’t complain to me saying you never had the chance. I gave you all I could.”

He heard a sigh come from Sicheng, and was about to get even angrier until the boy spoke up. “I didn’t need any of that,” he let out. _Agree to disagree_ , Taeil thought. “I was confused, yes. I didn’t know what I felt, when everyone around me seemed to know. I figured it out, after a while. But I didn’t need all these opportunities. That was never the problem,” he said, grabbing Taeil’s attention. Was there more to it than he had thought, after all?

“I wanted to tell him, believe me,” Sicheng continued. “I wanted to _say_ it. Not with that echo thing I’ve been given, no. With my voice, my real voice, my own words. I wanted it to come from me. So I waited for my voice to come back, somehow, someway. And it never did,” Sicheng explained, his echo faltering as he exposed the root of his problem. “Had I had a voice, I would have confessed long ago. But I waited for something that would never come, and I lost my chance forever.”

 _Oh_ , the wind whispered to Taeil. _Oh_ , Taeil’s mind whispered back.

Well, saying he felt dumb right now would be an understatement. “I heard what Doyoung said, earlier,” Sicheng recalled, bringing Taeil back to the impromptu and loud proposal debacle. “We won’t be together, in the Not-Neo. Right?”

He couldn’t tell what the boy was thinking at all times or wanted out of life, but Taeil would have been blind not to remark, even if it didn’t always seen like it, that he was indeed smart. Even caught up in an emotional battlefield against himself, he remained observant, assimilating information from his surroundings. His handicap might have restrained him from talking as much as he wanted, but just because he preferred to stay silent, didn’t mean he were oblivious to the world around him.

It also meant Taeil couldn’t lie, for he’d only be found out on the spot. He’d rather save himself the embarrassment, even if it meant shattering someone else’s hopes. Either way, to lie wasn’t part of his purpose, even when his contractor was crumbling into nothingness as he spoke. “It’s a possibility,” Taeil conceded, taking interest in his fingers. Could they not feel the drops on his skin anymore, or had the rain stopped? Now that Ten had destroyed the power source, could it be Neo shutting down for good?

Taeil had thought all that computer did was manage the citizens and keep records of everything that happened. What if it managed the entire city? The ecosystem, the building repairs, food supplies… How, Taeil wasn’t sure. His gut had always told him not to tamper with the monitors, and so he had obliged. His gut had never told him why, though. Perhaps the end of everything was why. Piece by piece, Neo disappearing, starting with the contents of the sky.

The boy stayed silent for a moment. “Is that why you wanted me to tell him so bad?” Sicheng then asked, connecting the pieces of a puzzle he had been given far too long ago, its instruction pamphlet absent from the box. “So I wouldn’t keep him behind because of my regrets?”

There it was again, that understanding of greater things Taeil had let slip past him. Assuming the boy didn’t care, didn’t want to care. Sicheng understood all the painful truths of life the way Taeil did; he worked for his own self, whereas Taeil’s self was meant for others. Back to back against the tree, Sicheng was a mirror into an alternate universe where Taeil was master of his own will, and the thought made his chest bloom in regret.

“Yes,” Taeil let out, forced into a corner. How he had underestimated the boy this badly would remain a mystery to him. “We all had to go, in the end. Even if it meant losing the opportunity to tell him, forever.”

Sicheng let out a small chuckle. “You didn’t have to worry about that either, Taeil,” he said. “Deep down, I think a part of him always knew. That’s why he never stopped chasing me, even after I turned him down hundreds of times. He knew. He must have,” Sicheng recalled, Taeil thinking back to all the displays of affection Yuta had never been afraid to pull out in public, even after the oldest had messed things up between them. All the displays of affection Sicheng had pretended to hate, while never pushing them away. “And I regret never saying anything. I do, now. But if there’s anything Yuta taught me, it’s how to be selfless.”

Taeil may not have been able to see him, or hear from his voice, but in that moment, he could tell the younger was smiling. “Every night, Yuta gives away the stars back to the sky,” Sicheng continued, the echo sweet enough to make flowers bloom in the midst of chaos. “He loves them very much, but he always knew how to let go. If he can do it with thousands of stars, I can do it with one. I’ll give him back to the world where he belongs, even if I love him very much,” he explained, getting up on his feet, a peaceful Yuta in his arms. “Because I love him very much.”

Walking away in the fog, Taeil could barely make out their silhouettes, but he could hear Sicheng’s voice carried by the wind as clear as ever. “You always looked at me like I put the stars in the sky, when it was you all this time,” he confessed to the unconscious man in his arms, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead. And without another noise, the foggy silhouettes disappeared.

Seventeen gone. One to go.

Taeil was alone.

In the beginning, he had been alone. Stretched out minutes turned hours in the freezing wind wandering City Center, in search of another soul to hold onto. Alone and terrified, until someone answered his prayers and gave him a boy. Alone again, voices murmuring _Let him go, push him away, and you’ll save the city_. Alone when he met a man willing to listen, willing to fill the void inside him, and alone again when he let him leave, _and you’ll save the city_. Alone when he walked, alone when he spoke. Alone in the end, just the way it had started. The exact same wind blasting through his shirt, shivers running high, praying for his soul to find the deliverance it had been begging for since the very beginning.

But Taeil dared to hope, in a city swallowing wishes dry.

And he moved forward through the thick fog, the exit at the tip of his fingers. One step, and he’d be gone, too, the wind pushing him in the right direction. The only direction. And so, to the wind that had sung for them everytime the world went mad, he whispered.

“So long, Neo.”

  
  
****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (okay i know these dialogues were sappy as shit but sue me i guess. please dont.)
> 
> } {
> 
> yes, our adventure ends here, but know that ill always be happy to answer any of your questions on neo and its characters whenever they may come. don’t hesitate to further your understanding of neo; neo has been made a mystery only to better be uncovered.
> 
> but, what was the purpose of this story?  
> well. i wanted to explore the themes of love in all its different forms, as simple as it sounds. blossoming (kunyong), unrequited (yuwin…except sike!), domestic (dojae), heartbreaking (luwoo), supportive (chenji), unspoken (markhyuck). devastating (nomin). the power to move mountains - or in this case, break a computer (johnten). even the one that got away (hansol & taeyong). romantic, yes, but also in brotherhood, family, the energy of platonic love being sometimes stronger than romance. taeil & jisung, yukhei & the kunbelievers, mark & renjun, jungwoo & ten, doyoung & jeno, jeno & taeyong…and much more. love in all its forms, in a world where it feels impossible to be true to one’s self. but they’ve all found it, in their own meaning.
> 
> it’s bittersweet to end all this. i wrote a novel-length story all by myself, in over eight months. an achievement i never thought i would be able to do and am very proud of, but also saddens me to know no one in my entourage will ever be aware of such a big thing ive achieved. i have you to comfort me in this fact, and although it is a sad note to end this message with, i am forever grateful to you for believing in this story. perhaps one day i’ll take the step towards published fiction, but as of now, ill focus on surviving my 20s.
> 
> to those of you who are interested, here is a link to the [timeline of all events](https://neocityuniverse.carrd.co/#supersecrettimeline) mentioned in the story, in case you might be needing some final clarity to process everything.  
> and, last but not least, to those who wished for a clearer ending, i have written a sort of aftermath epilogue you can view [here](https://neocityuniverse.carrd.co/#evenmoresecretepilogue). if you are content with the way this story ended, feel free not to look, and appreciate the open ending with your own interpretation. if you are more of the type to be restless at such an ending, ive got your back! haha. as long as you don’t come at me for what ive written their stories to be.

**Author's Note:**

> once again, thank you. i hope neo lives within you too- just don’t let it overcome you.
> 
> [ 190325 ]


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